Zuko's SnowJob
by moor
Summary: Zuko x Katara. Modern AU. Prompt: Snowmobile. As part of his atonement for past transgressions, Zuko is banished to the Water Tribe on a PR assignment from Hell, only to come face-to-face with the reason he fell from grace a decade before. Some things have changed, but ocean-blue eyes definitely have not.
1. Chapter 1

**Standard Disclaimer: I do not own "Avatar: The Last Airbender".**

**AN: This fic was written months ago as part of a 3-way gift-fic exchange between myself, Speechwriter and Uchiha.s. My prompt was 'snowmobile', if I recall correctly… Voici 38 chapters (mind you, some are quite short), fully written, for you to share in the insanity.**

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**Zuko's Snow Job – Chapter 1**

His emotions obvious, Zuko read through the briefing with narrowed eyes and tight fists as he remembered his mother's and father's 'advice' as he left the palace to ride to the airport and board one of their smaller, less impressive personal jets.

"_You're representing the Fire Nation with this excursion, Zuko, so do try to keep your dignity this time."_

"_Just relax and be friendly, darling, it'll go just fine. You may even remember some of the lovely individuals you met during your last visit! That'll be… nice!"_

"_Speak a negative word to anyone and you're disowned."_

"_As always, let the girls know you think they're pretty, and it's ok to flirt a little bit. Just remember to remain the perfect gentleman in all situations."_

"_If you get any of them pregnant, I'll shoot you myself and save their fathers the trouble."_

"_And don't forget to have fun! Send us a postcard if you have time!"_

As if this banishment of a PR assignment to witness the 'blessing' and grand opening of a new nature reserve on the coldest, iciest side of the planet was his idea of 'fun'.

His headset crackled painfully in his ear with static as the pilot waved at him in his mirror.

"We'll be commencing our descent in about 15 to 20 minutes, your Highness. Please buckle your seatbelt."

"Fine," he muttered, and with a last glare at his assignment from Hell, he folded the dossier together and slid it back into his bag. A few quick yanks on the thick canvas straps of his five-point harness had him snugly secured, and he sighed as he glanced out the window at the barren, bleak, wintery landscape below with a conspicuous lack of enthusiasm.

The sooner he got there, the sooner it would be over and done with, and the sooner he could return home. And hopefully, no one he'd met from the last time he'd been there would see him—or if they did, hopefully they would not remember him.

He thoroughly hoped for the latter, even as his chest squeezed tightly.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

A flash nearly blinded Zuko, but he strode on confidently as if it were nothing.

"Ah! Your Highness Prince Zuko! So good to see you again! How fare your wonderful parents? Have they joined you on this trip? It's been so long, we were really hoping to meet with them again."

Zuko's smile was polite, if strained, as he forced himself into his perfect public image. "They apologise for being unable to attend, but send their warmest regards, Chief Hakoda. They hope to be able to make a trip in the future. How are your family? I remember you were always a proud father."

"Ah," agreed the now old man with a fond smile, "That I am and always will be." He guided Zuko into the sweat lodge (which Zuko didn't remember being there the last time he'd visited—he hadn't thought this was the kind of thing the Water Tribe did) and with an amicable smack on the young man's pale back (which nearly sent him sprawling), guided him to the seat of honour.

Among the circle of other naked men.

Another few flashes went off, and Zuko was more firmly resolved than ever to thank his uncle when he returned to the palace for all the time he'd spent teaching Zuko knot-tying in his youth. There was luckily no way it was cosmically possible for the towel at his hips to loosen without the aid of a solid steel marlin spike.

"Here, sit beside me, thigh to thigh! Let us talk of our accomplishments; there is much to catch up on!"

The other men around them cheered loudly and poured more water on the exposed rocks in the middle of the fire-heated stones, and they sizzled and cracked as they released their steam. It was loud and getting louder, and Zuko swallowed and nodded, smiling all the while. He could do this. It was just like talking to someone at a sauna. Just… more… naked…

Until he noticed the… wear marks… on the seat he was to sit on.

"Of course," Zuko said around his constricted throat as he gingerly sat down on the very, very worn wooden bench, which he was sure had been worn into another's ass grooves going by how uncomfortable it was. Oh god, and ballsac. He was sure it was grooved to another man's particular ballsac.

Oh spirits, no, he could not throw up in this situation. He'd dishonour everyone. And it would no doubt end up graphically portrayed in the tabloids, and he would do quite a bit to keep his arse literally away from the public eye.

But he'd still do quite a bit more to get his arse out of its current 'groove', he realised with feeling, as the bile rose traitorously upwards in his throat.

_Oh sweet-_

"Prince Zuko," Hakoda leaned towards him and his shoulder brushed Zuko's. He was so close to the young man that Zuko wondered if perhaps he should have spent more time reading up on the definition of personal space when it came to the Water Tribe, or if he should make a casual mention of needing an adult. "I am honoured to have you here at my side, where my oldest, my son, normally sits. He unfortunately became gravely ill earlier and had to leave this place." He gave Zuko's shoulder a firm squeeze, and lowered his head.

Rooted to his spot (no matter how much he wanted to sandblast it), Zuko felt his stomach drop into his shoes.

"Your son Sokka? Chief Hakoda, I had no idea, and apologise for my ignorance. Please accept my and my family's sincerest condolences—"

"Oh, he just means his son ate some bad pickled herring. Had terrible shits," called out one man, further down.

"It was horrifying. Thought the poor guy was dying from all that screaming."

"Like lava," added a third.

"I can't even imagine," choked Zuko, and the other men nodded with him before returning to their previous celebration, Sokka's irritated bowels no longer the main feature of conversation.

Feeling tears rising in his eyes, Zuko nodded, truly moved by the men's comments. He wondered just how much skin he would lose when he scrubbed his own arse with a wire brush and Clorox later that night.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

"As we mentioned earlier," Hakoda explained as he escorted Zuko through the quaint Visiting Dignitary's residence—which Zuko surmised may have doubled as a small fish-processing plant in high season, going by the malevolent, sickening mixture of odours wafting from _goddamnedeverywhere_-, "Sokka is unable to escort you for the remaining duration of your stay with us. I apologise for the inconvenience," he said humbly.

Feeling some relief that maybe he could just hide in his room for the rest of the trip –outside the actual ceremony and cutting of the ribbon – Zuko immediately sought to reassure his host.

"Chief Hakoda, I apologise if I have put you out of your way in any manner. Please accept my sincere assurances that I am perfectly capable of—"

"So instead, please accept the company of my lovely daughter, Katara. You may remember her? She is kind and intelligent—"

_Oh Jesus Fuck no, anyone but her, _Zuko panicked again, certain events from his past awkwardly flying before him in his mind's eye—

"—and has been looking forward to meeting you again."

_Yeah, most likely near a car with a sizable trunk, with a shovel, a tank of gasoline and a match within spitting distance,_ he swallowed painfully, his polite smile ever-permanently affixed to his handsome face.

"I am honoured to receive her company and guidance during my stay," he returned smoothly. After all, a prince was poised and confident in all he did. It helped hide the delicate tendrils of anxiety that unfurled in his stomach and made his gut clench viciously in reaction to being told he'd be seeing _her_ again.

Zuko was quite suddenly grateful for all the martial arts lessons his uncle had imparted upon him throughout his life. Because he was rapidly beginning to think the Water Tribe had it out for him; and unlike a nice, clean, openly waged war, they employed guerilla tactics. He really wasn't sure how they were going to attack him next, since who in their right mind would have put him and Katara back together and thought it was a good idea after….

Zuko halted his thoughts with a mental inhale-exhale of meditative focusing, and reflected on his gratitude again. Yes. There. Focus on the positives.

He could defend himself with any resource available, be it a tire iron or a 50-pack of napkins. He would be fine. As long as they didn't outnumber him by too much. Or leave him and Katara alone for any period of time longer than it took him to blink. Or become horrifically concussed. Or bludgeoned to death by means of an untimely swarm of airborn hammers.

Yes. Fine. Probably.

Zuko briefly considered making a quick call to his family's attorney, to make sure he had brought his beneficiaries up to date during the last revisiting of his testament.

No, no, no. He would be fine. Absolutely fine.

_Deep breath, that's it, deep, cleansing breath. _

However, he was also curious as to whether or not Sokka had any of those bad herrings left. Perhaps he could avoid all this if he was just temporarily hospitalised with the screaming shits? That had to be better than the alternative.

His fantasies of self-harm for self-preservation were rudely interrupted by his host's cheerful exclamation of, "Splendid, my boy!"

Hakoda slapped him heartily on the back again, and Zuko withheld a wince, promising himself to rub some Tiger Balm in later that night before bed.

"Well, I'll leave you here to get settled in, and I'll send Katara over as soon as she's finished at the hospital."

Zuko jumped on the opening. "If she's visiting her brother, I would feel terrible if I were interrupting—"

"Not at all! She's the one treating him!"

At that, Zuko felt his mouth gape open like an old barn door on a rusty hinge. Thankfully, Hakoda politely ignored the groaning, pained noise he made.

"—I'm sorry?" the prince asked in an attempt to regain his composure, assuming he'd misheard or misunderstood again. It seemed to be happening with alarming frequency so far on this trip. What were the chances he'd actually heard correctly this time? At this notion, Zuko relaxed somewhat. Of course, he must have misinterpreted things again. That was it. There was no way that loudmouth, know-it-all, opinionated, scraggly-haired, rough-tongued, maybe not ugly, ok maybe funnier than average, bright-eyed, engaging-

"Katara is one of the heads of our community and regional hospital – she's just brilliant," beamed Hakoda, obviously excited to have someone new to brag about his daughter to. "She sailed through medical school and over the past several years has built up an incredible reputation not only for herself, but for the entire Tribe. We actually have specialists who come from across the world now to train under her as apprentices to learn her healing methods. She is as highly ranked as I am here at the Water Tribe, in many ways. She is taking time away from her duties in order to assist you, so I hope you both get along well."

Zuko reminded himself to blink. Then he remembered to close his mouth.

_Someone grew up. I wonder what she looks like now in person compared to the photographs—_

Then he realised exactly what his host was implying… And lastly it surfaced in his mind that Hakoda was a _very skilled game hunter._

"I look forward to such esteemed companionship during my stay with your generous family, Chief Hakoda. I am available at your and her convenience at any time. Please don't hesitate to let me know how I can be of service to you or any member of your Tribe." _While I still have my limbs attached to me._

"You're a good lad, Prince Zuko. You must make your parents very proud," smiled the older man warmly.

"They have never failed to remark on my accomplishments to others," confessed Zuko honestly.

Hakoda laughed, and Zuko mentally braced himself for the—

_Whap!_

-yet another hearty clap on the back.

Zuko grunted in pain, and tried to hide it by stretching a bit and asking where he should arrange his luggage.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

At the refined knock on his door later that afternoon, Zuko reluctantly set down his tablet and put on his Public Image face. That he may have shaved again, and made an effort to straighten his regularly immaculate appearance even more than usual didn't mean anything, in his opinion.

The fact that he'd bought out the entire village's supply of Febreeze odour neutralizer didn't mean anything, either; especially not the fact that a good 47 percent of it went strictly to de-evilling his bedroom.

"Good afternoon, Dr. Kuruk," he greeted politely, and heard cameras going off from at least four different directions. He mentally _cha-chinged_ on his decision to shave and freshen up again.

"Your Highness, an honour to greet you on this day," the _spectacul_—er, lovely young professional announced, and Zuko reeled in his first reaction to seeing her again in person in a decade, opening the door wider to invite her in.

"Cup of tea?" his manners came to the forefront, and he accepted her coat, hanging it in the closet as another whirr of a camera shot went off—he was almost sure from the bushes a few feet away.

"Would be very well received, thank you for—ˮ the door clicked shut behind Katara, and her façade dropped like a lead balloon. "Oh thank fuck. Close the curtains or they'll never go away otherwise."

Immediately she dug around in her bag and pulled out a folder and pen, opening it and kicking her boots off without looking at them –or him.

Unimpressed and sensing his renowned short-temper rising already, Zuko stepped past her and flicked the lock before double-checking the curtains, peeking through to check the proximity of the media circus to his door.

"Lacy ones are down—they'll never get a decent shot through those, and the rest are half-drawn. Do you think I'm an idiot? Stop giving me that look," he snapped, and paced away to glance out the corner of the window as he caught the roll of her eyes, gauging the paparazzi's determination this time around.

She ignored him, and poured her entire focus back into her work; Zuko forced himself to take a breath and calm down.

"I know how much they're gunning for us," he growled, and ran a hand through his shaggy hair in frustration, ruining his carefully constructed image in that one unconscious gesture.

_Remain calm. It was a long time ago._

He sighed roughly, blowing his breath out loud.

"I didn't ask for this, and neither did you. Look, I tried to get out of this, ok?... I'm sorry. I know you never wanted to see me again," he finished more quietly. It wasn't either of their faults they got stuck being the 'public faces' of their respective governments for things like this.

Several feet away Katara stilled at his words, still watching her papers—and him, from the corner of her eye—and then she shifted, turning to sit on the bulky leather couch; it was her turn to sigh as she flopped down.

"So," she said at last, her curt words falling like seagull droppings into the tense silence. "Any plans or special requests before we get this pony show on the road?"

"You're the guide."

"You're the guest."

"You're the one who knows everything."

"You're the one who'll be leaving with the 'unforgettable' memories to relay back to your parents, the royal family, the media, the senate and committees..." Her head tilted back to rest against the overstuffed cushion, her taut shoulders unrelenting when faced with the cushy comfort. "What do you want to remember—or tell them you remember—when you go back home to your regular, perfect life, your Royal Highness Crown Prince Zuko Sozin?"

Zuko looked over at Katara, then, her disdainful tone catching his attention.

She avoided his gaze before pulling her safety blanket of travail out again, spreading it across the seat beside her, colour-coded tabs and propositions all in a row.

Deep inside his chest, Zuko felt his heart sink.

So, she hadn't forgiven him after all. A part of him felt a pang of emotion at that, and he pushed it away. He knew he should be feeling relieved that their animosity had simmered down in their time apart, but somehow, it felt… wrong… that they weren't overtly sniping at each other. There used to be such fierce debates between them, such passionate exchanges, regardless of the topic. He tried to name the sentiment that bothered him about her aloof replies.

Disappointment, he recognised after a length. He felt disappointed there was no fire or true antagonism between them as there once was.

He closed his eyes for a second, considering many, many things.

"Well," he said tiredly, turning back at last to her and collecting his coat. "We better get a head start on those promotional photo-ops. It'll be a long week, it's best to feed the beasts early before they start getting hungry and causing trouble."

He ignored her snort, and didn't offer to help her up when he moved to the door and laced up his boots. She'd never accept his help behind closed doors. He already knew that. Old history, burned, scarred, learned and never forgotten. He'd never forgotten anything that concerned her, after…

"It's the outdoor arena." She checked her appearance in the mirror he'd moved to the wall beside the front door, and he did the same, leaning over her shoulder for a second to tidy his hair again. They were careful to keep a polite distance of separation between their winter-clothed bodies. Her papers had returned to her bag. It wouldn't do for her to look more preoccupied with her job than her guest, after all, in front of the media.

"I know." He straightened, his already-sharpened skates dangling heavily from his gloved fingers. "Ready?" He opened the door a crack and turned back to look at her, but she was already striding through.

"Smile for the cameras," she said in a dry, saccharine tone. But he noticed her voice didn't hold the same honesty or sarcasm it used to. If anything, it sounded almost as fatigued as his.

He couldn't help wondering at that, any more than he could help the way he instinctively gave her a second glance a heartbeat later and just filled his hungry, conflicted, disappointed eyes with the sight of her again.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

Another flash exploded in front of Zuko's nose, blinding him again and causing his footing to skew a bit to the side—where his skate immediately caught in another scored gash in the ice.

"Toe-pick," she smiled brightly at him, and he forced himself to nod and smile charmingly back.

"Not much opportunity for skating in the big, white tropics?" Katara inquired politely, and a hint of pearly bright teeth peeked through her artificial smile.

Gritting his teeth, Zuko regained his balance and forced himself to remain nonchalant as he glided along beside her on the frozen lake's surface. He was almost sure she was nudging him into all the bored-out pits in the ice just so he'd trip up and risk flying face-first into the snowdrifts that rimmed the outdoor rink.

And the damn paparazzi weren't helping. That had to have been the 47th time they'd used their flash on him that day—_out of doors! _Why did they need flash _outdoors?_

"I tend to engage in more solitary sports," he replied, equally polite, even as his ass, thighs and ankles screamed at him in agony, unused to the movements involved in ice skating.

"Never were a team player, were you, your Highness?" She remarked sweetly, and simultaneously they looked at each other and laughed warmly as another camera whir-buzzed and snapped a shot of their sham display of camaraderie.

"One on one suits me just fine, Dr. Kuruk," Zuko replied and—sensing another group of reporters stalking closer for another photo-op—took Katara's mittened hand gallantly in his as they snow-ploughed to a stop together with as much finesse as any Olympic duo, just in time to wave regally at a passing group of school children, who gawked and waved madly back. Several of the more daring students cat-called them, much to their teacher's embarrassment.

"Don't they know it's wrong to mock the afflicted?" Zuko hissed through his teeth, sensing his arse preparing to declare itself a sovereign state from the rest of his body and collapse it hurt so much; his smile was painfully wide all the while.

"They're children, they thrive on mocking perceived weakness," Katara retorted, her cheeks pinked and stretched from her own grin. The bags beneath her eyes were well beautifully camouflaged with make-up.

More whir-buzzing, and they regarded each other and pretended to _burst into fond, affectionate laughter!_ together.

Leaning over their knees as if to catch their breath from their 'outrageously hilarious anecdote sharing', they subtly turned their heads away from the cameras for a second and snarled at each other.

"Solitary pursuits, my ass. That's not what the news reports say," Katara snapped.

"Those reporters couldn't locate the truth with a GoogleMaps engineer and the long- and latitudinal coordinates tattooed on their respective backsides," he sneered back.

A smirk actually threatened to break through Zuko's mask of indifference as he heard Katara stifling her snort of appreciation.

"There may be something to that," she admitted grudgingly.

And in those six words, he thought he caught the hint of a thaw in her tone, and it gave his legs new vigour to continue on. His rear end, however, still protested to become a distinct society.

And so when they straightened to return to their tour around the picturesque outdoor rink, which was, sadly, infested with _scumsuckingpondvermingossipr eporters_, Zuko may have squeezed Katara's hand just a little bit.

And after a moment of hesitation, he'd like to think that it wasn't an accident that he felt her squeeze back.

"Ready for the next fun ice-capade?" She asked as they pushed off, gliding gracefully around the other 'random' skaters, including part of Zuko's security detail.

"This is when I'm to receive my 'casual invitation to the pick-up shinny on the lake', right?"

"At 2:37 PM, yeah. Feeling limbered up?"

They smiled—whirring surrounded them for a full thirty seconds or so as they raised their arms and casually pointed to random things in the distance, their shoulders positioned _just-so_ to hide the movement of their mouths. And Katara 'accidentally' stumbled into Zuko's arms, her 'embarrassment' adorably conveyed—as she and Zuko leaned closer to speak in hushed tones.

"We have our 'community centre coffee social' after this, right?" he asked, some of his long hair falling loose from his winter hat and spilling across his forehead, hiding part of his face. The less-pristine image suited him, not that he noticed, but their audience ate it up going by the tittering and camera-noises.

And caught behind his bangs as his honey-gold eyes were, he missed the moment Katara actually stumbled as she tried to reply, unable to turn her eyes away from him. In the next instant she turned her face away, regrouping.

When she didn't answer, Zuko shook his hair from his eyes and looked at her to see what had distracted her.

Still carefully concealed, Katara nodded.

To those around them, it seemed like he'd just asked her if she was allright—and was now showing keen interest in his hostess's state of being! Blogs and gossip feeds tweeted to attention, following every gesture.

Zuko reflected thoughtfully on their closeness as they stood together—and the reporters around them surmised cheekily on what they could possibly be devoting so much intense, private conversation to, and if it concerned possible feelings he may be developing for Katara. Distantly, he was sure he could hear them tapping away on their phones, twittering that he and Katara had fallen madly in love with each other after an afternoon of shared misery and sight-seeing on a wickedly frigid, exposed lake.

Little did they know, Katara had just found her voice again and murmured to him,

"_For 4:15, yes. Should I call ahead to reserve you a comfy broken wooden chair, or a stable broken wooden chair?"_

"_The one that won't give my arse splinters."_

"_Floor cushion, gotcha."_

Pact completed, the 'shared moment' ended and they stretched.

"Time for that pick-up hockey game."

"Great."

"For a man who likes solitary pursuits, I'm surprised you aren't jumping at the chance to play with your stick. Most guys around here live for it. It's all they do. I should know, I'm head of the hospital these days."

Surreptitiously glancing around casually and deeming the distance safe now that they'd moved on again, he hid a scowl inside his deep red scarf.

"That was a terrible innuendo." He fought the urge to cringe, eye gouge-worthy images of the sweat lodge threatening to revive themselves vividly in his mind. "And I can do without any further insinuations as to the private lives of other men. Did you know, these PR goodwill visits always involve me ending up naked with other men? Without fail or reason. I don't know why. The photographers seem to eat it up, so there's always one scheduled. I think there's a conspiracy."

Katara made an unsympathetic noise, and Zuko rounded on her. He made an inarticulate noise in his throat, before exclaiming (in a seething hiss), "I had enough of dealing with naked old men when I travelled with my Uncle to the hot springs as a kid! Ugh!"

But then Katara gave him a startled look, and he immediately backtracked.

"Not like that!"

"Oh. Ok…." She looked delicately awkward and unsure of how to reply for a moment before mentally shrugging. Thankfully she was willing to let that one go for the time being.

"Wait until you meet Sokka again, it'll be much worse. The naked-thing, I mean."

Zuko internally groaned at the resurrection of Sir Abominable Bowels himself.

Grateful they'd gained a bit of distance from their media-parade, Zuko's composure slipped a hair further when he let out a low sigh and admitted, "As long as I don't have to hear any more about his explosive digestive tract…"

Katara snorted under her breath.

The pair skated back to the bleachers set up on the side of the lake to rendezvous with the 'spontaneous' hockey game.

Neither commented on the fact they'd just engaged in the first semblance of a conversation in years—and fairly civilly at that.

The banished prince let himself ponder, just a little bit and with extreme caution, how nice that was.

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**AN: I'll be on a plane for part of the morning/afternoon today; I expect I'll still be able to post the next chapter later this evening, hopefully around suppertime (EST). If you don't see one by then, it will be a late-night update. I am still aiming for twice-daily updates for you all with this story, since it is already complete. Expect 38 chapters, total. : ) Hope you're mildly amused so far. Thanks to those who've provided concrit / R&R, it's always appreciated. Have a super Tuesday!**


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

Katara sighed audibly and handed Zuko another ice pack, a bit less carefully than her profession demanded. Her patience was waning, it seemed. Her papers were back out in front of her—one of her assistants had been called to the back door a while ago to switch out one pile of work for another that needed Katara's dire and immediate attention. He hadn't been able to hide his unimpressed look at how quickly she'd disregarded him in favour of her 'dayjob'. Was this how she handled all her dignitary guests, or was he just that special in her regard?

Internally, he felt he already knew the answer, and it made him cold. The disappointment crept back in around the edges, and he let it in.

Refusing to give her the satisfaction of grunting in pain, he snatched the ice pack from her and moved it to the side of his head. _Insensitive bitch._

He glared at her incredulously then shifted on the uncomfortable wooden bench in the lodge's back room. They had a few minutes before he was due out to meet his afore-mentioned cushion. He just hoped at this point he'd be able to get back up to his feet afterwards.

"They're trying to kill me," he grumbled when she glanced up at him in exasperation. _Again. _

_She has to see it, now—it was obvious!_

"It's all in your head," she repeated, as if on autopilot.

"No, but that puck almost lodged itself there. Permanently!" He gestured angrily at his temple.

"Stop whining, they didn't even knock out any of your teeth." She flipped to the next page of her report, her brow furrowed.

"They made me the goalie and shot at me instead of the net!"

"Zuko, you're the goalie, of course they were shooting at you."

"With the intent to do _me_ physical harm! Not score!"

"I can see why you never took up team sports, you always make everything about you."

Zuko threw his arms in the air in frustration—until the sudden movement jarred his brain inside his skull, setting off the violent pounding of his headache all over again. He did moan lowly then, and wrapped his hands over his aching head as he leaned and suffered and tried to find a happy medium between blazing agony and fuckawful pain.

Katara snorted. "You'd never have made it on offence. They'd have had you trapped against the boards the whole time."

"It wasn't my decision to do the whole physical activity and bonding thing—the PR team gave me a choice. Hockey or the other things."

"Really? What kind of alternates did they give you? Wrestling polar bears or leopard seals?" she said flippantly as she dug out a sheaf of papers and started reviewing them and adding notes here and there—though a part of her was curious if her expression and quick glance back at him meant anything. Zuko hoped it did; just a bit. He was also beginning to think he harboured masochistic tendencies.

"It was hockey or curling," he groaned, closing his eyes. There, that helped. Darkness was bliss. He adjusted the ice pack gingerly, and found a more comfortable spot for it before he continued.

"The other one involved throwing rocks around in houses," he explained tiredly. "Your sports are crazy and violent. Hockey was just chasing a little black rubber disk on some ice. Obviously, I went with that one, since it was the more civil-sounding one. Until they put me in goal…"

Katara dropped her papers in her lap and stared at him for a full three seconds.

Before she burst out laughing.

"Hockey… curling… civil… _hahahahhahahahaah!"_

Zuko opened his eyes and glared at her from beneath the ice-pack. He was not amused. "It's wrong to mock the afflicted."

Katara just pointed at him and laughed harder, tears streaming down her cheeks.


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

It was late in the day and darkness had fallen when Zuko returned to the fish-shack he temporarily called home, his body aching and spirit… depleted.

He'd just collapsed on his couch and closed his eyes when he heard a knock at the door. All his princely manners abandoned him when he barely bit off a curse that would have curled his poor mother's hair, had she heard it.

_I'm. Not. Here._ He tried to send the message through ESP, to see if the party on the other side of his door had any latent third-eye powers. He scrunched his lids closed tight and ignored them as hard as he could. _Go away, go away, go away…_

As the doorknob rattled and twisted and the door swung open, he decided that no, they didn't seem to have any magical mental powers, and then cursed himself for forgetting to flick the lock. So many virulent gossip-mongers, and he'd forgotten to lock his own door. Perhaps he should have requested a tighter security detail for this trip, to save him from his own stupidity.

"Hello?"

That voice. He'd heard it all day. It had tortured him all day with memories and guilt. And now it had come back to haunt him during his short respite. Could his day get any worse?

"Can I help you?" he finally asked, dragging himself up and turning to look at his visitor…s.

He just stared for a moment before the man across from him strode over confidently to shake his hand and drop his tall, lanky frame down onto the couch beside him, throwing an arm across his shoulders in camaraderie.

"Zuko! My man! How are you doing?"

"Prince Zuko, I'm sure you remember my brother, Sokka…" At this point, Katara looked just as tired as he did with her lackluster introduction. Not even bothering with the usual formality, let alone their official titles, Katara slumped into a nearby chair and yawned into her hand and waved weakly at them. "Talk amongst yourselves. I just need a few minutes… to… mmphm…."

And with that, she drifted off to sleep, curling up into the cod-scented easy chair. Her usual papers were held loosely in her grasp, but she hadn't even taken the cap off her pen.

"Kat—what—Sokka, what's…"

Confused, Zuko looked between the siblings, and finally noticed the deep, bruise-like bags beneath Katara's eyes that her worn-off make-up no longer concealed, and the faint tightening in Sokka's brow, the stiffening in the other man's jaws.

At first Zuko wondered if he should panic and make a run for it—but Sokka shook his head at him, making him realise Katara's brother wasn't upset at him, thank goodness.

There was a quiet period, during which Katara dozed lightly, then more profoundly.

"Should we—"

Sokka held up a hand to stem Zuko's questions. After two or three minutes, when Katara's breaths had evened out, he stood and Zuko followed him as the able Water Tribe man gently lifted his sister and then looked at Zuko with a questioning look on his face.

Immediately understanding, Zuko motioned him to follow and together they moved Katara to Zuko's room, lay her down on his bed with a blanket overtop to keep off the chill. Then they closed the door after themselves as quietly as possible after setting a small heater on to soften the crispness in the air.

While Zuko resettled himself on his couch and closed his own eyes again for a moment, he heard Sokka puttering around the kitchen, bringing down cups and brewing strong coffee by the smell of it.

The cup made a soft thud-smoothing noise as Sokka set it on the end table beside Zuko, and Zuko nodded in gratitude at his old friend.

"You looked like you needed it," was all Sokka said, and Zuko let out a long, low breath of agreement.

"I take it the Tribe isn't going easy on you?"

Shrugging, Zuko almost wanted to laugh. "No," was all he replied, and he let his guard down a little further. Sokka had nothing to gain from him, really. And… in a way, they were similar: Forever in the shadows of their revered, prodigal siblings, for one thing.

Sokka swallowed a mouthful of the steaming coffee, looking thoughtful as he stared at the dark contents of his brew.

"Why is she this tired?"

Sokka looked up at Zuko's question, expressionless for a moment, which Zuko recognised as his thinking face.

"She works too much," Sokka said, in a roundabout way.

"I thought she had assistants at the hospital. And aren't you supposed to technically be the one following in your dad's footsteps as Chief-to-be? She isn't still doing both regularly, is she? She looks exhausted. And she hasn't smiled honestly all day. She used to laugh all the time…"

Zuko cut himself off before he went too far. He was just a guest. Just a temporary political guest, there for a week and a bit to lend some support behind the Tribe's accomplishments, bring them some well-earned attention before returning back to his own responsibilities and the next goodwill mission his stately presence could grace. He rubbed at his famous face, and ran his hand through his hair; he shouldn't criticize. He didn't know anything, these days. He shouldn't interfere.

_Like I didn't learn that last time…_

Zuko rubbed at his face again with frustration, and Sokka waited.

"Never mind," muttered Zuko, and took a strong swallow of scalding coffee. It burned the entire way down. He closed his eyes and let his mind drift for a bit, grateful for the quiet company and lack of demands on his time, for once. Not that Sokka wasn't hanging around for a reason; obviously he wanted Zuko's attention for something. But they could be patient. In Zuko's role, with the random requests to put in his Royal Appearance at spontaneous events, he couldn't hold a job, let alone have a career. He had no expectations from his family—those were all on Azula. He had no contributions to make to society, no value, no worth outside of his family's prestige, and it wasn't as if he'd earned that prestige himself. If anything, he'd made a reputation of losing face following certain events…

He sighed softly under his breath, and tried to think of something more pleasant. Anything more pleasant. And failed. As usual.

It was quiet between them for some time before Sokka leaned forward, his elbows on his knees, and he finally looked up at Zuko.

"I think she's burning the candle at both ends, and the flame's close enough to burn her out, too. Very soon. Katara's exhausted, Zuko. She's working at the hospital, but she's also pretty much running it. She has assistants, but she also has apprentices who need constant mentoring. She's a social leader, which means she is constantly invited out to this talk or that event, and she has to attend or risk offending the host. On top of that, she's being courted by not only members of the tribe, but politicians, business leaders, their families and supporters, all trying to get her on their side so that they can get a foot into the running of the Tribe. Basically, she's everything to everyone and there's nothing left for herself."

Sokka debated something a moment, before admitting, "And she has no one to lean on. She isn't seeing anyone," he added bluntly, knowing Zuko wouldn't ask.

"So why is she here with me? And please don't go into detail about your stomach hindering you, that's… unnecessary," said Zuko somewhat awkwardly, looking at Sokka.

The blue-eyed man just smirked for a second to himself, and drank a bit more coffee before rolling his cup between his hands to warm them.

"You really don't know?"

"I wouldn't have asked if I did."

"What's she doing right now?"

"Wearing herself thin, by the looks of things," scoffed Zuko, holding his cup but losing interest in its contents.

Sokka nodded once, watching him.

"What?"

"What is she doing, right now?" he repeated, his voice intent.

"… sleeping," answered Zuko after a length.

Sokka watched Zuko for his reaction from the corner of his eye. "When she's out with you, or here at your place, no one would dare impose on her."

"She's hiding behind me?" Zuko almost snorted at the thought, his dark humour flaring at the absurdity of the notion. "She could take them out with a few choice words. This is Katara, your sister—she was never a pushover," insisted Zuko, his grip tightening on his cup unconsciously. "Believe me," he muttered. "She knows how to articulate when she wants space."

"Dad asked your parents specifically to send you instead of Azula for this trip. They didn't tell you?"

Zuko's head shot up at that, and he stared wide-eyed at Sokka.

He blinked in disbelief, and Sokka took a deep breath and let it out slowly, glancing behind them at the door to Zuko's room; checking Katara's room and the pattern of her breathing for signs of waking. Finding none, he turned his attention back to Zuko.

"Look, Zuko, I'm not… it's none of my business. But what happened before happened a long time ago."

Zuko felt his shoulders and back stiffening almost painfully as tension seeped through him, and his heart thudded uncomfortably in his chest and a faint buzzing made itself heard in the distance, just low enough to be noticeable. He couldn't speak, so he listened through the deepening tunnel as Sokka continued on.

"You were right. Katara knows it. She hated you for it for a while, but I think it was because she hated herself more for not being willing to admit it. She does nothing for herself anymore. She's a slave to the rest of them, and… I think she's lonely. And overburdened. She needs to lean on someone, and she'll never accept Dad's help, because she's afraid she'll disappoint him, or mine because she's worried I have too much on my plate already. She doesn't know if anyone else can handle it—because it's a lot. I don't even remember the last time she mentioned she had an uninterrupted night of sleep. Her assistants are the only ones she sees on a regular basis—and even then, it's just to make sure she stays on track with her work."

Zuko's jaw had shaped into hard lines, tighter and tighter, as Sokka went on.

"Her friends? Aang? Toph? Any of them?" his words were measured precisely and level.

Sokka shrugged and his hands flopped down—mindful of the coffee cup—to slap against his long legs. "Toph managed to pull her out from under the load once in a while, but since she left to manage her family's corporations and subsidiaries, it's harder for her to get away and come visit. And Katara hasn't left for non-business reasons in…"

"… years," finished Zuko in a whisper.

Sokka nodded, glancing at the door again to ascertain their relative privacy—and safety.

"At least if she had someone to share the political and diplomatic duties with, she'd be better off. But no one here is that savvy, at least, not to the extent they need to be," said Sokka. "I'm good with people, but we need someone with a more professional edge."

Zuko stared at the floor again, breathing in, breathing out, thinking over Sokka's words.

"Don't get me wrong—I'm not shirking my duties. And I'm backing her up wherever I can, wherever she can't push me out for overdoing it the way she does," at this the two men almost grimaced knowingly. "But I have a family. Suki and the kids are everything to me. And after what happened to our family growing up, she'd never—"

"—she'd never take you away from time with your family if she could do the work herself," finished Zuko.

Sokka smiled softly at that.

"You remember."

"Yeah." Then, "She did the same for me, when I was here for that summer… the diplomatic exchange…" his voice trailed off.

Sokka's grin faded slowly and he stood, taking his cup back to the kitchen for a refill.

"Anyway, your plans for the evening have been re-arranged due to an unfortunate contamination in the restaurant where you were supposed to be eating—"

Zuko looked up quickly at Sokka, who pretended to ignore Zuko's horrified expression.

"—so go lie down and have a rest. You both need it."

The buzzing in Zuko's ears stopped abruptly.

Incredulous gold eyes met warm blue ones, and Sokka thumbed behind him, pointing to Zuko's room.

"... but… Suki, the kids…" stuttered Zuko, uncomprehending.

"-Are fine without me for one night. She and I talked about this a lot, and decided that we'd help Katara out in our own ways, whenever we could. And now, you, too. You and Katara need your sleep. And as your unofficial chaperone who will testify that nothing untoward occurred outside of genteel conversation this evening, I say you should go take advantage of a decent night's sleep, 'Crown Prince Zuko'. Now get thee to bed! I brought plenty of snacks and movies to occupy myself," he said, holding up a bulging knapsack.

"No pickled herring?"

"Not here, no. The menu at the restaurant for the evening may have called for—"

Zuko put his hands up immediately, and shot to his feet. "It's ok, I don't need details." He moved to put his cup in the sink in the kitchen, but then turned back to Sokka, biting his tongue lightly, nervous. Then he stopped himself and mentally rolled his own eyes. _You are not a coward, Zuko,_ he told himself.

"You're… sure… it's ok?"

"That I put the herring in? Oh yeah, I tested it earlier this week. Trust me, it'll—"

"No! That… that I go… lie down…" The rather loaded sentence was left open-ended.

Their eyes met for a second, before the men casually looked away.

"Go sleep," Sokka eventually said, turning towards the tv and reaching for his bag.

When Zuko entered his room again, he closed the door behind him and changed more quietly than he ever had in his life, slipping on his grey t-shirt and flannel pyjama trousers before crawling beneath the covers. After a minute or two, he carefully shifted the bedding so that Katara was fully covered by the blankets, too, and pulled her in close to him so she rested on her back, his arms wrapped around her in the hopes he'd never have to let her go.

Despite his recent cup of coffee, they slept undisturbed until late morning.

* * *

**AN: Feedback, y/n? ;) Expect 2-3 chaps tomorrow...**


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

There was a light tapping on the door that roused Zuko from the depths of his slumber, and as he screwed his eyes tighter for a second, he noticed at the same time that he was warmer than usual, all over. And his arms were sprawled across and around that warmth, holding it to him tenderly.

The curves had developed since he'd last held her lithe form; her scent had shifted slightly, but beneath the faint perfume he could still smell her, that fresh mix of seabreeze and artic air, of tea leaves and lily of the valley; but her skin was still the same soft, satiny cream he remembered, and unconsciously he trailed his hands down her arms to touch more of her, starved for further contact. Days, months, years of distance and longing drifted away from him as the fire inside him was stoked by the physical memory the gentle caresses awoke within him. It wasn't a permanent fix, it didn't mean anything had changed from what was, and it would never again _be_ what it was, but… but damn if it didn't make him feel just a bit more whole, to have her there again, in his arms.

Ignoring his summons for just a little bit longer, he sleepily turned closer to her warmth, nuzzling intimately to her ear to inhale deeply of that glorious reminder that she was there in his arms for the first time in a decade.

He held that breath for a ten-count before reluctantly rousing and pulling away to look at Katara, knowing he had to wake her, too, so they could get a start on their day.

It was no surprise the breath caught painfully in his throat when he saw her conflicted blue eyes staring straight into his, perfectly awake and aware, as he drew back. It felt like a serrated dagger had been thrust deep into his chest.

Too confused to speak, Zuko felt his mouth go dry as he stared straight back at her.

The tapping at the door sounded once more, and this time it was Katara who moved, slowly sliding to the side of the bed, turning away from him, and walking out without a word to meet Sokka who'd already started cooking breakfast.

Zuko stared at the door she'd left from, then back to the spot in the bed she'd slept in.

_How long… _

His heart shuddered in his chest before it tightened like with the twisting of a blade, the poisonous suspicion releasing hotly through him in a trickling, insidious trail.

_What the hell—_

And then-

_How long had she been awake?_

And then, beneath the confusion, hurt and anxiety: a tiny spark, a flicker, the barest hint of anger.

Over the course of the day, that spark was all it took to kindle a forest fire.


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

Just before noon, Katara and Zuko left his residence with warm, comfortable, artificial smiles to greet the paparazzi of the day. Their overly warm demeanour was due in part to the dampened spirits of their insufferable, persistent pests, whom, the pair noticed, Sokka had 'accidentally' turned the hoses on pre-dawn that morning—to the housemates' amusement. As such, the camera-laden vermin were slightly less aggressive than usual. Zuko had to hand it to Sokka's engineering ingenuity—it had to have taken some evil brilliance to get those pipes to thaw over the course of a single night and spray their unwanted guests without bursting from the sub-zero temperatures. (For his part, Sokka had said nothing, only remarked that if they saw any hairdryers on sale that day, would they mind picking up a few? All his had unexpectedly burned out at the same time.)

In spite of the morning's humour, by late afternoon Zuko was ready to call the entire trip quits.

The inspirational sing-along with the school children had taken off spectacularly well with a child throwing up on his boots; the villagers had then proceeded to shower him with praise—and for some reason, accidentally moose dung; and now, as he snow-shoed across the windswept tundra to the photo-op of him finally, _finally_, opening the nature reserve. He wasn't sure how the reserve was any different from the pseudo-parking lot he and Katara had left her car in, four kilometres ago; he saw no difference in the landscape, the wildlife, or the random tribesmen who kept unintentionally stomping on his snowshoes to trip him.

The constant jabs, the harsh conditions and the uncertainty surrounding Katara and her intentions, whatever they were, left Zuko with a very thin sheen of patience over his professional, regal veneer by the time he'd cut the ribbon and shaken hands and suffered through far more photo-ops than he thought strictly necessary.

Plus Katara had taken off somewhere in the middle of it, leaving him alone to his PR stations, which wasn't improving his demeanour.

When he found the weather turning colder, the biting winds picking up and the snowfall shifting from light and whimsical to blinding and dangerous, Zuko sighed in relief and turned to ask for a ride back to the parking lot—only to find the last of his hosts had already taken off on their snowmobiles, leaving him with naught but his wits and his snowshoes.

The snowshoes he wore, for their part, had seen better days: Their straps had snapped, their buckles sheared off, and he was almost sure that crack in their outer brace was new. He hoped these weren't historic relics of any importance.

And he was left alone at the edge of the wilderness, to top it off.

It was a difficult minute for Zuko, to hold himself back from screaming to the heavens how much he hated his 'job' at that moment.

Resigning himself to his journey, he picked up the rackets and trudged doggedly back towards the parking lot in his boots and long, fur-trimmed coat. He just hoped Katara had left their vehicle behind for him.

From there, there would be nothing left but the long flight home.

* * *

But not even that small respite was possible, in the growing storm.

An hour later, Zuko was bitterly cold and desperately lost. There was no longer any visible sign of the road, trail or parking lot, let alone the village.

He did scream, then.

_"Mother f—!"_

* * *

__**AN: Much love to you wonderful individuals who've been leaving me reviews! You make me smile while I'm at work. :)**


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10**

"Hey, done for the day?" Sokka glanced up at his sister as she entered his kitchen and dropped her boots on the tray by the door. He was bouncing his youngest on his knee and singing nursery songs together with her.

"Mm," Katara turned away from him to flick on the old kettle and reach for 'her' cup that she kept in his cupboard, collecting her usual coffee accoutrements along the way.

Sokka watched her back carefully from the table for a few minutes before setting his little one down gently.

"Go find mommy!" he called cheerfully, smiling and waving encouragingly as the little one looked at him with head cocked for a second before breaking out in a big grin and waving wildly back, then toddling off inexpertly down the carpeted floor.

"_Mamamamamamamama!" _she cried happily, and Sokka couldn't help grinning at the sound before turning back to Katara again.

Katara ignored his critical gaze.

Waiting until his daughter—and his other children—were well out of earshot, Sokka strode over to the doors that led to the kitchen and closed each one with a soft click.

"What happened?" he asked carefully.

"Nothing," her head was tilted down, her hair falling forward like a curtain to hide her face.

"Katara—"

"Nothing. He didn't say anything. Not a word," she whispered, leaning her head forward to rest against the cupboards. "He was so angry, but he didn't say a word."

"So you both said goodbye and just walked away? Again?" Sokka couldn't hide his disbelief. Ten years his sister had been waiting, and… nothing?

Sokka's heart ached for the pair. If they couldn't make things work this time, he wasn't sure they'd ever have an opportunity again.

He sighed. Her shoulders tensed at the sound and Katara shook her head in answer to his question, still not facing him. There was a faint trembling in those slender shoulders of hers, he saw now.

"I just couldn't…" she said softly. "I couldn't stand there and watch him anymore. All week he's put up with everyone's slights and ignored them entirely as if they were nothing. Yet he hasn't lost his temper even once. He hasn't shown a hair of arrogance, hasn't demeaned or insulted a single person, and hasn't said a negative word to me since he first arrived. He's… he's become a real, live prince. He's perfect. Every photo-op, every meeting, every public appearance, he's been charming and kind and generous. I hate it. He hates it. And he does it anyway," her voice broke, frustrated tears choking her.

She swallowed thickly, her throat working furiously as she heard Sokka move behind her, placing a warm hand on her back and rubbing a gentle circle of support.

"He's hated every minute, but he's done such a good job, always made sure everything was perfect to play up the generosity and prosperity of the Tribe to help us with the publicity. He even sleeps like a gentleman!" she exclaimed, slightly irrational. "That night—he-he-he pulled me to him, and covered me with his blankets, and just… he let me sleep…" she sniffled, rubbing the back of her wrist and hand across her cheeks.

"He could have started something—anything—and… and he didn't. I don't even remember the last time I slept that long, consecutively, uninterrupted, Sokka."

Sokka's arm slipped from her back to circle her trembling shoulders and pull his sister closer until her face bumped into his shoulder and she sniffled louder.

"He hates me! Why is he being so damn nice?"

Sokka looked at the ceiling a moment, debating internally before shaking his head and shrugging his shoulders.

"He never hated you, Katara. He saw what the Tribe was doing to you, what you were doing to yourself, and knew the path you were heading down because he lived it himself. He didn't want to see you go through that." He sighed under his breath, adding in a half-mutter, "For all the good that did—you jumped straight down the well he tried to steer you away from. Do you remember what he said? That day?" he asked patiently.

Tucking her hands around her brother as she sought more comfort, Katara shook her head a bit tiredly. "Embarrassingly enough, no, I don't even remember now… I was just so angry…"

Sokka snorted. 'Angry' was an Understatement.

At Katara's poking his side rather viciously, Sokka yipped. "Ok, ok… Well, I may have the wording a bit wrong, but it went along the lines of, "You're an idiot if you want to be like me. You'll never be like me. Pray you never end up like me. It'll destroy you and everything you care about. I was born for this, and you weren't, so stay where you are and find your happiness somewhere else. Stay in your Tribe and quit reaching for the sky, it's annoying and pathetic. Your family needs you here, so be with them." With more cutting remarks here and there, and melodramatic sighs and arm-waving, and arguments between the two of you as you'd interrupt each other…"

Sokka felt Katara tensing all over again in his arms and rubbed her back as she buried her face in his shirt.

He gave a quick tug on his sister's hair to gently tilt her head back, looking at her directly in the eye.

His voice was soft, compassionate and sympathetic, as he quirked a grin. "Has that 20-20 hindsight vision kicked in, yet?"

Katara scowled at him, making his grin stretch wider.

"He knew." Her voice was tired.

Tilting his head side to side in indecision, Sokka scrunched one eye shut, and his voice trailed off meaningfully, "I think he had seen the signs and could tell where they were going. He cared so much for you, for your future, he was willing to sacrifice your friendship to try and derail you from becoming a drone and slave to your responsibilities. He respects you, Katara; he knew you, even then; but he also knew he wasn't in a position to be able to help you, at least not at that time. So instead of waiting patiently, he blew his head off at you to try and steer you off your self-destructive course. And failed rather spectacularly."

Her glare intensified and her lips pinched. "Yeah, well he chose a pretty piss-poor bit of timing to 'confess' all this to me, too," she growled.

"You were both young," Sokka tried diplomatically. "And he probably thought you would have been more, er, relaxed at the time… Uh, could we not talk about this part of things? You're my sister and everything, and… yeah."

And at that, Katara snorted. Half the village had heard the yelling from Zuko's room that day... both the rapturous ecstasy and subsequent argument-turned-debacle, since the pair had been too wrapped up in each other prior to _to close the damn window..._

But her shoulders had relaxed, and she was standing without supporting herself on a counter, and she wasn't shaking anymore, either. She took a step back from him and let him go, nodding to herself.

"Do you get it, now?" asked Sokka, his eyes meeting hers again, warmly.

She smiled back at him ruefully.

"I think so. Thank you for spelling it out for me, oh great wise one. You couldn't have told me this ten years ago?"

"Would you have listened?"

Ignoring the barb, she crossed her arms and reflected internally "… The important thing, now, is that… that…" Her words had started off defiant and drifted into thoughtful.

"That you talk to him. Before he leaves. _Tomorrow_," exclaimed Sokka with exaggerated patience, like he was giving directions to a mentally retarded pet.

Tomorrow….

Tomorrow?

When she didn't react immediately, he threw back his head, screaming, "Spirits alive, how am I suddenly the smart one when it comes to relationships!?" at the ceiling in frustration, waving his arms in disbelief.

But Katara was ignoring him, again, realising _holy fucking Christ, Sokka was __**right**__._

"I need to talk to him," she said to herself. They had to talk. They had to explain. They had to… to…

Shit.

Spinning on her heels and ignoring the kettle whistling behind her, Katara made for the boots she'd left at the door.

"Like seriously! I know I'm good at the book-school intelligence-thing, but you're supposed to be the one who's good at the feelings-stuff! Has the world gone insane and I missed the train?" Sokka rattled off at himself, one hand tightly gripping his hair as he stared at the fridge, wide-eyed. "Oh hey, Suki picked up a new flavour of seal-jerky..."

She ignored his distraction.

"No, no, you're fine, but I gotta go. Tell Suki & the kids I love 'em," Katara shoved her arms through the sleeves of her jacket and threw her purse over her shoulder, not bothering to do up the zipper of her coat. "Don't call me tonight. I won't answer my phone," was all she said as she ripped open the door and sprinted out into the darkening storm.

"What—what do you—Katara!?"

"I mean it!" she yelled back, waving at him as she opened the door of her SUV and shot him a quick smile.

But it was a smile he hadn't seen in ten years.

Happy, full of hope, anticipation, and…

… Love.

Sokka raised a hand and waved back, weakly.

Katara gunned the engine and sped off into the darkness.


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11**

The lights were out at the house Zuko had been staying in, and no one answered his door. Most tellingly, there were no paparazzi camped out around the porch or hiding in the bushes.

Figuring he must have gotten a ride back from the reserve to the Main Lodge, Katara hurried back down the steps to her SUV, gunning the engine again. She'd had a few close calls on her way over, but she was fine; and it would all be worth it when she saw him again.

Just a little bit longer…


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter 12**

Nearly wiping out seven times on the 3 kilometres of road it took to get to the Lodge, her nerves fraying a hint at the accidental three-sixty she'd slid through the small intersection that hadn't _looked_ that dangerous, Katara steadied her nerves as she pocketed her keys and walked as quickly as she dared across the blustery parking lot and entered the warm, raucous Lodge where everyone else seemed to have gathered that night.

"Katara!"

"Ah, here she is!"

"Well done, you finally made it!"

She smiled a bit awkwardly at everyone, waving at them on autopilot as her eyes skimmed the faces that cheered her entrance.

"Sorry to interrupt, I'm actually looking for Zuk—er, Crown Prince Zuko," she caught herself.

There was loud tittering and out-loud guffaws at that. Instead of feeling reassured, Katara felt something in her stomach tighten cautiously.

"Where is he?" she asked, her half-smile pasted to her face. The bad feeling in her gut hadn't abated. _They wouldn't have. He's a guest to the Tribe. He's fucking royalty. He's—_

"Oh, I'm sure he's fine. He's probably still on his way back," chortled one gentleman, who winked at her conspiratorially.

"His way back?" The tightness had started sinking, and pulling the rest of her with it, deeper and deeper.

"Don't worry, Dr Kuruk, he's had lots of time to think over what he did to you before," assured another.

Even in the too-hot, stifling building filled with rowdy friends and family, Katara could hear the howling winds picking up outside.

_He's still out there._

_They _left_ him out there._

The rock in her gut twisted painfully as anxiety and outright panic filtered slowly into her bloodstream, as if someone had sneakily shunted a drip into her heart.

I left him out there.

_He's out there in the middle of a snowstorm, completely unprepared and unsheltered._

_And the only thing he did to deserve it was try to help me._

Warmth pushed at the back of her eyeballs and Katara forced away her emotions; well, most of her emotions. The bubbling fury that stirred and roiled up inside her taunted her, and for the first time she grabbed hold tight and didn't let go.

No, she took a deep breath, set her sights on her targets—all of them—and unleashed it upon their unsuspecting souls.

"_You… IDIOTS!—"_

Within 8 minutes 17 seconds she had organized three teams of search parties, set up a Search and Rescue command centre there in the middle of the Lodge, commandeered two dozen walkie-talkies along with winter gear and, most important of all, summoned a small fleet of ultra-fast snowmobiles and experienced riders.

"Katara, we hadn't realised the weather was turning-," her father began as Katara strapped on her helmet outside, her back to the wind, and snapped the chinstrap tightly under her chin. Suited up in her thermal safety gear, she ignored his excuses. "Please, there are plenty of others out there looking, too. Come back inside."

Her eyes were icy blue flames as she glared back at him as she climbed aboard her father's monster Skidoo. She'd already filled the tank with gas, adjusted the lights, and strapped down the emergency gear and spare tools and jerry-can of gas. Spare blankets were stowed under the seat, hot chocolate, spare helmet, and if necessary, a foldable trailer, bungee cords, and netting if things got more drastic. She'd spent some time with the S&R teams as a medic; she knew exactly what they were facing, and every minute counted. They'd lost hours already.

"I'm not abandoning him," _again_, she snarled determinedly at her father, and with a quick turn of the key the bright lights flooded the area with light.

Because she had made her decision.

She wasn't coming back until she knew Zuko was safe.

With her.

Her engine screamed as she joined the front of the first search party, and she waved at them to rally and follow her.

Once she opened up the throttle they were quickly out of sight.

Gripping the handles tightly, Katara breathed as evenly as she could to avoid fogging her goggles and face shield.

_Please be ok._

She turned the grip a little bit further, pulling ahead of her team. She tasted copper and realised she'd bitten her lip.

_Just be ok._


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter 13**

_Several hours later_

Katara's tears had frozen in crink-crackling trails against her cheeks.

The others had already turned back, the storm too dangerous for them to continue. She'd ignored their calls, orders, commands and pleading to return.

"Still l-looking. W-w-will return w-w-when I h-have h-him!" she'd radioed back, her stiff fingers barely able to work the buttons properly.

She'd emptied the last drop of her spare jerry-can into her tank three quarters of an hour ago; her teeth were chattering hard enough to make her jaw ache.

They still hadn't found him.

Drawing in a breath that was so cold it scored her throat and lungs on the way down, Katara looked around her area once more.

Nothing.

Scratching that quadrant from her mental map, she turned the engine on once more, and moved on to the next one.

He was out there. She knew he was.

She would find him.

* * *

**AN: A late-night update for you, as I won't be able to update again until tomorrow (Friday) evening. (I have a super-early morning start at the office, sorry!) Hope you're enjoying!**


	14. Chapter 14

**Chapter 14**

_An hour later_

It was past midnight now, and Katara could barely lift herself off the seat of the snowmobile. Her legs were stiff and strangely unfeeling. There wasn't even any pain anymore, or pins and needles, just stiffness.

She couldn't feel the biting sting of the wind against her face at all.

She wasn't even trembling any longer.

It took her three tries to pick up her special high-powered flashlight to beam across the expanse of tundra, searching for anything that might be a human-sized lump under the snow. At least a foot and a half had fallen since they'd left the reserve that afternoon, and it was still coming down.

"Zuko!" she called, but her voice was so raw it barely made a sound. "Zukoooooooo!"

She honked the horn on the snowmobile. She waited.

Honked it again.

Honked it over and over and over again, and waited, but there was no sign of life around her.

"Going to next quadrant," she radioed in robotically, and turned it off before they could get a word in edgewise. She had no time to waste on them.

He had no time.


	15. Chapter 15

**Chapter 15**

_There!_

Her heart thudded hard against her chest at the lump her headlight beams illuminated.

When she sank down to her knees in the snow and desperately scrambled to uncover it, she thought it had all-out stopped.

She nearly burst into tears when all she uncovered was a misshapen rock.


	16. Chapter 16

**Chapter 16**

The storm was finally showing signs of slowing, but her gas tank light had been on for the last few minutes and Katara felt herself slowly but surely falling into hopelessness.

She doggedly kept on, but was functioning on full autopilot.

The hypothermia had set in and she felt her lucidity slipping away from her for longer and longer periods. Slumping forward, she pressed on and scoured the landscape that was clearing enough for her to make out individual snowbanks again.

A few minutes later, the engine started sputtering.

Katara felt her eyes becoming more uncomfortable as more tears froze before they could be shed.

Zuko.

Zuko.

Zuko.

"Zuko," she tried to call, but had no voice left.

It seemed like it was a split-second later, but it must have been longer as she felt the engine stalling out beneath her.

Too distant to even curse, Katara just looked down at the fuel gauge.

Empty.

She closed her eyes.

_Fine_, she decided, and got wobbly to her feet.

She fell sideways into the thick blankets of snow, picked herself up awkwardly; fell again, and forced herself to stand through sheer strength of will.

_Fine, I'll continue on foot._

Somehow, she couldn't remember how, she strapped the rescue pack to her back and hitched up the now-fully-assembled trailer to the backpack so it would trail behind her with her other supplies.

And she continued on, her light leading the way.

Zuko.

Zuko.

Zuko…


	17. Chapter 17

**Chapter 17**

_Spirits_, Katara prayed quietly as she came across the lump in the snow.

_Spirits, please hear me._

Her gloved hands were shoving snow away, uncovering the mass as they'd uncovered so many rocks, tree stumps, ice-bulges, that night.

_Please, I beg you, I beg you for him. I don't beg for strength, or wisdom, or success, or even happiness. Not riches or reputation._

_Please._

_Please, please, just him._

Her glove hit the stiff surface, and Katara peered down, moving her light closer.

A jacket

Dark hair.

Not bothering to stifle her sob, Katara scrambled wildly to uncover the rest of him.

When that was done she set up the flexi-shelter, dragging him inside and setting up the emergency heaters she'd dragged with her on the sled-trailer.

Hot chocolate. Naked. Blankets. More heat, more heat, gradual heat, gentle heat, body heat even if she wasn't sure she had any left inside herself.

His pulse was dangerously faint, but it was there, and that was all she cared about in those first moments as she kicked off her own garments as best she could, slipping beneath the covers with him and holding the thermos of hot chocolate between them to warm his core.

There was a good chance they'd lose a few, if not all, their toes, and possible fingers, but at that moment Katara didn't care.

He was alive—just barely—and with everything she had in her she was going to save him.

With the last of her strength and failing coordination, Katara reached up and yanked on the rip-cord that surrounded the ceiling of the small flexi-tent.

Above, the beacon on the top sent out a blinding beam of light, alternating with shorter blips before sending another long beam of light.

Her fingers had been unable to send the flare she'd loaded, but the tent-beacon would alert the rescue teams, now that the storm was receding.

Then she dropped to the floor alongside Zuko, and lost consciousness.


	18. Chapter 18

**Chapter 18**

She stirred slightly and felt relieved when she felt a body shuddering violently against hers.

_Shivering_, she registered distantly._ He's shivering._

_Thank the gods,_ she thought before she passed out again.

She wasn't shivering, but she didn't notice. Things were a bit too hazy for that. But that was ok. Zuko was shivering, and that meant his body was trying to warm itself up again. That was what was more important.

In fact, even when the Search and Rescue teams reached them, she didn't shiver, or wake. Zuko was almost completely non-responsive, but his pulse was strong and stable enough for transport. With the assistance of the paramedics he was airlifted to the hospital for emergency treatment. When he woke, he hadn't even known Katara had been the one who reached him.

Zuko wouldn't find out she'd been his rescuer for several days after he woke. But his waking was nothing short of a miracle considering his condition, the attending physician explained warmly, much to his family, the Tribe, and the media's delight. The medical responder on site, a doctor, had done everything right, and it had saved his life. He was lucky to have had someone so dedicated to him.

"Who was it?" he'd asked, thinking he should arrange a proper show of gratitude. His voice was still a bit rough, but it had been explained to him that it would just take a few days until he was feeling more normal. His hands and feet were a mess, but they hadn't had to amputate anything. He counted himself ridiculously lucky that in spite of everything, he was going to be ok for the most part.

At his bedside, the attending looked at him strangely for his question, before explaining, "Dr Katara Kuruk. She wouldn't come back in until she found you. Her snowmobile ran out of gas out there; she put up the emergency shelter and got you stabilized before she activated the locator on the top. It was the only way we would have found you two…"

Zuko was speechless… and surprised. None of it felt real.

He was quiet during that first day or so after regaining his senses and hearing that news. His parents had arrived during his stay in the hospital meanwhile and demanded to see him immediately. Apparently they'd been at his side day and night, and his mother had been frantic. His father had shown concern and yelled at any medic who looked remotely lazy about their care of him. Even his Uncle Iroh had arrived, accompanied by a suitcase full of medicinal teas to strengthen him and aid in his recovery. But as there was no mention of Katara outside of that one conversation with his doctor, Zuko assumed she had gone back to her regular routine of hospital rounds, mentorship and village responsibilities, since he obviously had plenty of folks to look after him now.

It irked him she hadn't said a word to him, though. Was she so busy she couldn't even come check on him herself?

He was actually upset that she hadn't visited him, he admitted offhand to his mother who kept him company at his bedside through his recuperation. Then he noticed the way Ursa's lovely, faintly lined face had frozen as she'd realised with growing horror that_ no one had told him._

That night in the storm, Katara had fallen into a coma.

She had never regained consciousness.


	19. Chapter 19

**Chapter 19**

"Why won't they tell me anything!"

"Zuko, calm down, this isn't good for you—"

"I deserve to know! I was out there with her!"

"You aren't her kin; at best you were her patient and temporary guest," admonished Ozai harshly. "Stop heaping humiliation on yourself and calm down."

"No!" hollered Zuko, his golden eyes wide and dangerously focused; and to everyone's shock he started tearing off all the diagnostic monitors taped to his chest and arms. "Where is she! I'm going to find her. Someone has to tell me."

His mother and a nurse rushed to take his arms and stop him, but while he wasn't at full strength, he was far from the weakling he'd been when initially admitted.

He struggled against their grip, pushing forward until his legs hung over the side of the bed. "I said _Where Is She!"_

The nurse slipped to the side to pull on a small cord that stuck out from the wall, and a low alert sounded in the hallways.

"Let go of me—I just—I just want to know where she is!" he begged, his anger and concern warring visibly within him. "Why won't you tell me anything!"

"Zuko—"

"—Son—"

"What are you hiding from me!" he yelled.

"She's dying," came a deep, thick voice from the corridor.

Everyone stopped in their tracks as the dark-haired woman, bowed slightly at the doorway in deference to the collected Royal Family.

"I apologise for intruding. Crown Prince Zuko was resting when I'd stopped by previously. We haven't met, but I'm Sokka's wife. My name is Suki."

Stilling, Zuko watched her with trepidation and wariness.

"May I—"

"Please, come in," invited Ursa, and everyone relaxed minutely—if only in appearance—as the newcomer entered.

"I only have a few minutes. I was wondering if I could please speak with His Highness privately," she asked, nodding in Zuko's direction.

There was a very pregnant pause as the other occupants looked at each other before filing out.

"Of course. We'll just go get some tea."

"Thank you. Please forgive me for intruding," Suki bowed again, and didn't rise until she heard them close the door behind them.

She and Zuko looked at each other a long moment before she spoke. She took the seat Ursa had been using at his bedside.

"Forgive me for not visiting sooner," she began, but Zuko's hard gaze stopped her.

"Katara. How is she?" he demanded without preamble.

Suki stared straight back at him, unflinching. Zuko had to give her credit; Sokka had chosen well. This wasn't a woman to be intimidated.

"You and Katara were found together; despite you being buried in snow from what they could tell; Katara was actually in worse condition because she was exposed to the elements. The snow insulated you, protecting you. Katara was brain-dead when she was admitted; she was revived enough to re-start her heart and brain activity, but she has not regained consciousness."

A choking sound escaped Zuko's throat.

Suki waited for Zuko to regain his composure as his face crumpled for a second, and she turned away to straighten out a corner of his bedding, giving him a beat of privacy. From the corner of her eye she saw him breathe deeply and continued.

"They don't believe she will. Her father and brother are meeting with her physician this evening."

Zuko glared at her.

"To do what?" he asked evenly when she didn't continue.

"To disconnect her from the machines."

She didn't flinch when his eyes flashed murderously and his fists clenched, his breathing becoming a harsh, choking pant.

"Can you take me to her?"

She nodded.

"Now. We go now," he commanded, and Suki bowed slightly to him before going to the door and pulling in the wheelchair she'd left just outside.

"Before we leave this room, there is something you should know," she said before she moved behind him to push him forward.

"Quickly, then," he said, his eyes already focusing on the hallway outside.


	20. Chapter 20

**Chapter 20**

Something in his chest bottomed out at her words when the meaning hit him.

_She isn't going to look how you remember,_ Suki had said.

_If you haven't seen someone on their death bed before, then this could shock you, _Suki had continued gently. _Remember who she is to you, on the inside. Hold onto that. You'll need it._

And as Suki slowly wheeled him into Katara's private room, filled with flowers and cards and gifts and balloons and well-wishes, he couldn't get past how still she was.

Her lax face.

The limp hair.

The sunken eyes, staring glassily at the ceiling. Eyelids open, but eyes unseeing.

The mechanical way her chest rose and fell in time with the machine she was connected to.

The swollen bruising all over her face, the blisters on what little was exposed of her hands and arms. Her fingers were wrapped, and he swallowed, wondering. He was almost grateful he couldn't see her feet, knowing how his looked. Her skin was dry and flaking, and anxiety like he'd never known erupted through him; he wanted to run. Run away from this.

_It wasn't her. It wasn't Katara. This isn't real._

But the haggard-looking men at her bedside, their emotions raw and so painfully obvious, couldn't act this well. Hakoda and Sokka were the leaders of the Tribe. They would never allow themselves to be seen like this. Vulnerability like this would never be displayed so openly.

And it was then, when he felt his own heartbreak match theirs and reality hit home to Zuko that he slowly slumped forward and reached out for her bandaged hand.

"Katara?" He struggled to breathe through the invisible bands that tightened around him, constricting and unrelenting.

"_Katara?_"


	21. Chapter 21

**Chapter 21**

"Three days," answered Hakoda quietly, weary, and had it not been for Sokka's quick reflexes the man would have died a violent death when Zuko's hands wrapped around his aged, wrinkled throat.

The room exploded with noise and shouting, scraping chairs and after a moment even a soft-toned alarm that rang in the halls alerting the staff to a request for security's intervention. In a flash Suki had marched the children to the door and ordered them to _Stay Put Or Else_ before she rushed back in and backed-up a very red-faced, straining Sokka.

"Like Hell three days!" Zuko shouted even as Sokka and another medic pried him away from the Tribe's leader, his glare murderous and less than sane. "Have you no faith in her?! She just needs more ti-"

"She's had time!" cried Hakoda, his deep voice cracking in misery. "She's been here for a month, your Highness, and has next to no response following every stimuli they could think of. Including the experts you so graciously provided for her assistance," he added with fraying control. It was the most vicious Zuko had ever seen the firm, but fair, man, and if he'd been less personally involved he may have heard the pain behind it that so matched his own.

But instead, all he heard was someone telling him his Katara had less than three days left to live before her father and brother would remove her life support systems.

"She's still healing; she isn't ready to wake up yet!" Zuko lunged forward, but Sokka and Suki held fast, and the security staff finally arrived outside the door—closely followed by Zuko's mother, who had remained to support Zuko. He'd refused to leave until Katara regained consciousness.

"Zuko, darling, please calm down, let's talk about this," she began as soothingly as she could, entering their space and reaching out for him.

"No, I will not calm down—why can't you see it? She's exhausted—she was exhausted from all her stupidly compounding responsibilities before I even arrived. Her body is healing from being so run-down, and then the hypothermia exacerbated it! Don't you get it!? She needs a recovery _from you and everything you piled onto her!_"

"Zuko, that's enough!" his mother rose defiantly before him, and grabbed his chin, forcing him to look into her deep, currently fierce, amber eyes. A smouldering fire met his gaze, and he felt himself momentarily stunned.

"But—"

"Now, you listen to me, young man," she began. She was calm, but very, very unimpressed with her son's behaviour. Her grip tightened on his chin when he started to turn away from her to renew his battle with the Kuruks.

"This family is losing their only daughter, their only sister. She went out there to save you; I know you want to return that favour. She went out there to make up for the completely tasteless, inappropriate treatment her village had inflicted upon you; you want her to see that she didn't do it in vain. And most of all, her family want to see that happen, too. But do you have any idea what they are going through right now? They know it is their fault she went out there. They feel the most soul-shattering guilt because they know it is, in part, because of them that she's here in this condition. No, stop it, I know what you're about to say, Zuko, and you've already said it so it doesn't bear repeating. Listen to me, now," Ursa intoned meaningfully, still holding his frustrated gaze.

Breathing harshly as his throat constricted, Zuko clenched his teeth and bit his tongue, breath blowing out harshly between his teeth in an agonised wheeze.

His mother's grip softened somewhat, gradually, until she was finally holding his face her in hands. She tipped her head forward until it gently met his, third eye to third eye.

"Zuko, you aren't the only one in pain. You aren't the only one who feels guilt. You aren't the only one who is going to miss her. Do you think this is what she would want, if she was here now and knew she only had a few days left? Or would she want to see that you were happy? That you wanted to cherish the time you had left with her? That, above all, you love her?" she said in a hoarse whisper, her eyes crinkling as wetness built in them, a bright sheen. Her maternal instincts had gone out to him, and to Katara's family, when they'd learned the truth, and she couldn't help seeing the situation from multiple emotional, tragic angles.

"You need to learn to share, darling, and you need to learn to let go; she made her decision to not give up that night. And honey, I respect you so much for fighting for her and refusing to let her go now," Ursa said in a trembling voice as she saw Zuko's face crumbling as he struggled to keep his breathing even.

"But darling, if she doesn't come back, if she can't wake up, we can't make her stay. Not like this. This isn't what she wants. Her father and brother have shown you her living will; they need to abide by it. We need to respect her decision. I know it's hard; it's the hardest thing you'll ever have to do, I swear, but you need to do it. Especially for her. Accepting another's decision like this is the ultimate form of love, because they need to trust in you so much to carry it out in their stead when they are unable to tell you or do it themselves. Don't betray that trust, Zuko. Don't fight in front of her like this. She wanted you to be safe; she didn't want you to be trapped out there in the cold, alone, incapacitated. This is what she wants now; we can't selfishly keep her trapped here just because we can't let go of her, ok? Do you understand what I'm saying?"

Ursa released her grip on her son's cheeks lightly, to give him a moment to compose himself, and let her own tears fall unashamed. Queen she may be, but mother was she first.

It was a tense time as they watched Zuko struggling, and eventually he rubbed his hands over his face and took a few deep breaths.

"One week," Zuko requested respectfully, turning his red-rimmed, sunken eyes on the man who, at another time, may have become his father in law. "Please. Sir. One week. I stayed away for ten years. Could I please request one week?"

"Zuko," admonished his mother softly, but Hakoda held up a hand, eyeing the young man with a measuring gaze.

"A question, do I have your word that you will not interfere… when the time comes?"

The men regarded each other. Leader, future ruler; father, son.

Seeing her son vibrating with his emotions, Ursa reached for Zuko's hand and squeezed.

_A week isn't enough. It will never be enough. What can I do in a week for her?_

Then Zuko looked over at the unmoving woman in the hospital bed; and every moment they'd spent together, from her arrival on his doorstep, their time skating, the special events, and the one night they spent together in peace, in each other's arms, away from their responsibilities flashed in his mind.

She had never given up on him.

Zuko made up his mind in that moment.

"Yes."

"Then one week," agreed Hakoda solemnly.


	22. Chapter 22

**Chapter 22**

The first thing Zuko decided thereafter was to do everything he could to ease the burden Katara would return to. Because he'd decided she had to return. To her tribe, to her family… spirits-willing, to him, too. But even if it was just the first two, he'd be… relieved, he told himself firmly.

With that, he took her matters into his own hands. Starting with the myriad tribal responsibilities she had. Political, diplomatic, social; he reviewed her schedule from the past several years with the help of her computer and notes (she was a bit of a pack-rat he quickly discovered, but every note and invitation helped him get an idea of the 'big picture' of her role). The 'big picture' turned out to be staggering—and as the Crown Prince, he was on the road travelling for goodwill and political purposes more often than almost any other person in their realm. Katara's publicity, fundraising, hosting, and other duties were so diverse it was a wonder she hadn't been hospitalised for stress leave 18 months prior.

Zuko felt fury towards Katara's tribe and family mounting.

They had been taking advantage of her, for years. Even if she wouldn't complain, they should have realised this work schedule was obscene. It was enough for several full-time employees. Yes, the tribe was small, but there was so much to take into consideration, from the cultural and political cues and traditions, to the ceremonial and award-based events, and…

Closing his eyes, Zuko forced himself to release his clenched fists slow and take several deep breaths.

Even worse, these tribe-related duties weren't including her hospital work.

Or research.

"First," he said to himself quietly, taking out a notebook, pen, and calendar. He took a deep breath and moved everything to a bigger table where he could set up his own laptop beside hers. "We'll do this first. It's time for some corporate restructuring around here," he muttered angrily to himself under his breath.

Taking each part of Katara's responsibilities and separating them into different roles, Zuko drafted job descriptions, responsibilities, time commitments along with short-term (within the next 3 to 6 months) and long-term (1 to 7 years) goals, events and expectations. He set to work and stopped only to use the bathroom and get more coffee.

It took him 47 hours to complete; a new record. Slightly unsteady, but determined, he faxed it to Hakoda as soon as he'd reviewed it for obvious typos; then he slept for 4 hours, ate a quick breakfast, and in the new rental vehicle he'd arranged for himself he dragged everything into an old hockey bag he'd found in Katara's basement and transferred it to the hospital.

His next goal was to get her 'real' job under control for her.


	23. Chapter 23

**AN: I have been home for 5 minutes today - please have a chapter! XD (Expect another... er... later tonight!)  
**

* * *

**Chapter 23**

Sokka was just entering his father's office to check on any possible updates on Katara's condition when he took in the crushed expression on his father's face.

"Dad?" he asked, anxiety mounting. "Did something happen?" His throat closed over at the hollow look in the older man's eyes.

"I never knew," Hakoda said quietly.

"Is it Katara?" Sokka's stomach was tightening painfully, and his throat ached.

His father nodded, but then seemed to realise it was his son he was speaking to. "Oh Sokka, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to worry you further. No, not in that sense… It's more that I had no idea your sister was doing so much."

He was staring at a thick bundle of papers laid out on his oak desk, and Sokka walked closer to see what had him so bemused and upset.

"Job descriptions?"

Hakoda nodded, spellbound. "Zuko looked through your sister's calendar; even sent me some of her diary pages which detailed how busy she was. I had no idea it was this bad, Sokka. That boy's even broken down the types of people we'd need to look for to fill these roles."

"He tends to think of things on the Big Scale," mumbled Sokka, picking up a few pages to review them. "But I agree with him; Katara picked up everyone's slack for too long. But no one else ever stood up to help or offer, so she just kept doing it. He must have just done these… Hm."

"What?" Hakoda looked up from the papers on his desk to see his son focusing on the sheer amount of work Zuko had done for them.

"This type of restructuring and analysis usually takes months to do; and costs a lot of money for consultants," he added half to himself. He shook his head as a tired smile quirked across his face. "But Katara's so central to everything, she had access to everything he would have needed."

Hakoda's brow furrowed.

"Are you saying he went through her files?"

"Obviously," scoffed Sokka, but his head was still tilted to the side. "But he has saved us thousands of dollars and years of work… With this, we can start working on a way to rebalance Katara's workload."

_Whether she was there or not, _he didn't add.

"Sokka, we know that the chance of her recovering over the next 5 days is—"

"Highly unlikely. Improbable, in fact," agreed Sokka, but then he looked at his father, and his half-smile came out again. "But have you ever known Katara to give up?"

"No, but this is different, Sokka—"

Sokka nodded, and added with a casual wave, standing up from the corner of the desk he'd settled against, "Ah, yeah, I know, but one more thing, and this is it, I'll be out of your hair—Zuko knows Katara better than anyone else. Ten years ago he predicted Katara would be in nearly this exact situation. If he thinks she can make it out, but just needs more time, I think…"

Sokka sighed as his father's weighty gaze rested upon him again, challenging him to continue his thoughts.

"Well, anyway, if he believes in her, I'll do what I can to support him. In the meantime, I'll see what I can do about finagling the council into reviewing some restructuring options at the next meeting."

His father sighed softly.

"I know, I know," sighed Sokka goodnaturedly. "But somebody's gotta start sweet-talking them now if we want to start pushing this through. We just need to make them think it was all their idea, first."

His father snorted under his breath, the closest he'd come to a laugh in almost a month and a half.

With a tired sigh and an even more exhausted smile, Sokka dragged his feet back to the door.

"Son?"

"Yeah?"

There was a heavy silence where much was said without words.

Sokka stood a bit taller, and faced his father full-on, his young face grave and weary, but hardened with the tense lines of hope.

"I understand, Dad. I'm just… I'll understand if she doesn't make it. But I'll understand it when it happens, not before. I'm not giving up until that seventh day. Zuko can make a pretty good argument, when he really sets his mind to something," admitted Sokka ruefully, scratching the back of his head, beneath the wolf-tail he'd grown his near-mohawk into. "But I get it. Don't worry, I'm not… setting myself for disappointment. Thanks, Dad."

Hakoda snorted again, but watched his son leave with something akin to envy.


	24. Chapter 24

**Chapter 24**

Hakoda received the next fax from Zuko approximately 60 hours later.

He wasn't surprised when he saw an angry note appended to the back in elegant, regal calligraphy telling him exactly what Zuko thought of the hospital's mismanagement of resources, and providing a number of references of how a 'real' world-class healing institution should be run.

As he read the recommendations, Hakoda's brow furrowed.

He swivelled in his leather chair and reached back into his filing cabinet and retrieved a report his daughter had prepared, 3 years earlier.

A tension headache formed immediately, and grew more insistent, as he skimmed the paragraphs between the two reports.

Hell's Bells.

He checked the references on the back of each report. Some names matched, but it seemed Zuko had called in favours with a few very expensive consulting firms to get the document drafted so quickly.

Hakoda had assumed he knew what was going on under his roof, raising his family.

He'd also assumed he knew what was going on in his own village.

Now, Zuko, the royal family's PR-playboy, was single-handedly proving him wrong at every turn, and in only a week's time and effort. A very determined, educated effort, he was willing to admit, but still, it was shocking to see it laid out so plainly before him. Katara had been a lynch-pin for so much. He still couldn't wrap his mind around how she'd fit everything in.

And Zuko seemed to have made it his life's—or, more accurately, Katara's life's—mission to see that her efforts to keep the village going not fall into ruin because she was no longer there to run things.

The older gentleman leaned his head into his hands, resting his elbows on his desk, and tried to swallow a sob. Katara had just under 2 and a half days left to prove one of them right and the other wrong. There was no time for his pride to be bruised or his jaw to be clenched with the near insulting criticism Zuko had provided him on the way he ran their community and Katara's ludicrous workload. Already Katara survived on borrowed time and medical technology, and there wasn't much of that left.

And Zuko, the one who was bringing so much of Katara's life to light, who was proving him wrong over and over, was the one who currently thought she just needed a bit more time.

"_No, I will not calm down—why can't you see it? She's exhausted—she was exhausted from all her stupidly compounding responsibilities before I even arrived. Her body is healing from being so run-down, and then the hypothermia exacerbated it! Don't you get it!? She needs a recovery from you and everything you piled onto her!"_

Zuko's words came back to Hakoda, then, and he did feel his jaw tighten at that.

A hint of hope trickled into Hakoda's spirit, then. It begged him to trust in the young man who was fighting so hard for his daughter.

He didn't want to—not that he didn't love his daughter and wish her every happiness, but he didn't know if he could stand to keep that hope alive, as he had before for so long, only to lose her as he had his wife years ago. He wasn't sure if his heart could handle it. A parent should never outlive their child; this he firmly believed. He couldn't afford false-hope.

But Zuko wasn't asking, or offering, false-hope.

He was just asking for a little bit more time.

And so, Hakoda stared at the sheaf of papers for a little while before picking up his phone and asking his secretary to set up a meeting with the hospital's board of directors.

It was then his secretary informed him that the hospital's directors were actually on the line and wondering if he could please come and 'dethrone' the assertive young man who'd taken residence in Dr. Kuruk's office? Apparently he was running the place like a military compound and had tried to fire a half a dozen doctors and nurses that morning already.

After a moment of surprise, the sharp bark of laughter erupted from Hakoda's throat before he could help it, and he apologised to his secretary, assuring her he'd head right over.

Against his will, Hakoda felt a wry smile itching itself across his lips even as his tension headache renewed itself. Zuko was apparently a very 'hands-on approach' kind of young man.

_Funny, so is Katara,_ he thought to himself…


	25. Chapter 25

**Chapter 25**

"When was the last time you slept, son?" Hakoda demanded of Zuko as he walked the prince to Katara's room. A small security detail trailed them as casually as they could manage down the hospital's corridors, much to Hakoda's amusement. He wasn't sure the last time the Crown Prince had been followed by a security detail who'd been ordered to defend against him instead of protect him. But apparently the problem hadn't been that Zuko had tried to fire the staff, it was that he'd tried _to set fire to them _when they'd called Katara lazy and slow to respond to her e-mail that month.

An honest misunderstanding, on the staff's part, as Hakoda couldn't say he wouldn't have done the same thing in Zuko's place.

"Hn," mumbled Zuko, looking more than a bit worse for wear. Hakoda was recognising the signs of burn-out in the young man, and walked slowly, speaking in soothing tones.

"Ah," Hakoda nodded and just patted the young man on the back. "How about you sit and keep an eye on Katara for a bit, and I'll go grab some lunch for us. I've been reviewing your suggestions, and Sokka and I are quite impressed."

This caught Zuko's hazy attention after a moment, and he turned to look at the Chief with raised brows—which quickly drew together. "It should have been done ages ago."

"We're actively working on it now. You did a good job, and we are very grateful to you. So you sit for a bit, and I'll be right back. If you need anything, you can ask the fine gentlemen behind us," assured Hakoda, who glanced behind him.

A bit hesitantly, the security staff nodded but cowered together in solidarity nonetheless.

Zuko had somehow intimidated them all with his outburst.

_Perhaps it was the excessive use of fire and the proximity of so many tanks of explosive oxygen gas?_

Hakoda wasn't sure, but smiled and guided Zuko to sit down in the chair at Katara's bedside as they arrived at her room.

When he returned with lunch, he found the young man slumped across her bed, his fingers threaded through her still-bandaged ones, his other hand reaching for her cheek but not quite touching her.

As quietly as he could, Hakoda set the tray of food down on the counter and pulled a spare blanket from a cupboard to wrap around Zuko's shoulders.

Then he put the Do Not Disturb sign on the outside of the door for visiting hours, and closed it behind him.

When he returned to his office, Hakoda set about calling in every favour, every service, and courtesy he had, and threatened to call in every lying, cheating scumbag on top of those.

If…

He reconsidered for the hundredth time.

If…

If Zuko was right, and Katara just needed more time, he wanted to make sure that the situation she came back to wasn't the one she left.

It wouldn't happen overnight. It wouldn't happen until they'd made a lot of changes, and change took time.

But he wanted to show her that she wasn't alone; that she shouldn't live to work; that she should take the rest of her life to live for something more important. Or, at least the immediate weeks and months following her waking and convalescence—Katara was too driven to allow herself to be herded to the sidelines, and they relied on her for so much…

Yes, the tribe needed her; but they were also strong enough to stand on their own feet. They should not be using her as a crutch, Hakoda decided firmly.

Zuko was absolutely right. She did need time to recover.

And when she recovered, she could decide what she wanted to do; she wouldn't be doing everything anymore. She could choose what would be part of life, instead of being chosen by default to be the mainstay of every little thing, the constant decision-maker, simply because no one else had taken the initiative to take ownership of an issue.

The Chief looked over the many incidents where Katara had been consulted, instead of the individual going through the proper channels just because they thought Katara seemed 'more approachable'. Things were certainly going to start changing, he resolved with more than a bit of anger, already thinking of a few more additions to Zuko's reports. He'd pulled at least a dozen names of 'repeat offenders' –individuals who'd imposed repeatedly on Katara instead of following their proper escalation procedures—he would be speaking with them shortly. They'd come up frequently in the day-planner pages Zuko had scanned and faxed him. The boy was clever, and observant.

Hakoda then took a moment to wonder if there was something, or rather, someone, else she may choose to be part of Katara's life, if and when she woke.

He kind of hoped—there was that dangerous word again—that she would look at that person and at least consider it.


	26. Chapter 26

**Chapter 26**

Zuko woke when he felt a gentle touch on his shoulder.

"Just adjusting your blanket," Suki whispered, and he nodded, setting his head down again.

And immediately woke, alert and alarmed.

"What day is—"

"You still have a day and a half," Sokka assured him, coming up behind Suki. Then he smiled at Zuko, and the prince wondered what was going on. "You sure know how to piss off the powers that be. You're earning your old reputation back."

Zuko tensed, and realised he was still holding Katara's limp hand.

He gently set it down, in case he lost his temper. He would never risk hurting her.

"The reports?" he asked around a yawn, and he rubbed his hair from his face. As his fingers ran through it, Zuko noticed he could really use a shower. The media would have a field day with him if they were to catch sight of him at the moment.

"Well, that and lighting fire to a few of the hospital staff."

"They deserved it."

"Yeah, that's what Dad said," chuckled Sokka, and beside him Suki cracked a grin, too.

"But Dad refused to let them kick you out. He said you'd earned the right to stay at her side."

A bit unsure of things, Zuko looked between the happy couple before nodding once more and turning his attention back to Katara. The Chief's words should have warmed him, but he felt empty.

"Have I missed anything?" he asked. He was sure they would have woken him, but it never hurt to ask.

Suki shook her head, her eyes apologetic.

Then again, maybe it did hurt a little bit.

"We brought you a change of clothes, and towels, and a few things like that. And some of Katara's personal items. We were going to give her a quick bath, if you wanted to go have a shower? We'll watch her while you're in there," Suki held out a knapsack bursting at the seams.

"Uh, you may want to open it in there in case it explodes," added Sokka uncertainly. "Suki can pack a tank into a teacup."

"I'm just efficient," she said with casual confidence.

Taken aback at their thoughtfulness, Zuko didn't know what to say.

"Go!" teased Sokka, slapping Zuko hard on the back—enough to jostle him out of his seat.

"Thank you both," Zuko humbly said, finally, and went to take his shower.

As soon as the door closed behind him, Suki and Sokka's smiles faded and they just stood there a moment, staring at the door.

When they eventually left that evening and returned home, they held each other a very long time.

And then Sokka lost their unintentional argument spectacularly when he tried to trick Suki into signing a contract wherein she would promise to never chase after him on a snowmobile in the middle of a snowstorm if he were to get caught unawares. Suki scoffed at him and informed him that the only time he'd find himself lost in a snowstorm would be if she ever caught him cheating; because she would be the one to strand him there.

Feeling more reassured, Sokka settled down to cuddle for the night.

And then woke up after midnight, with a groggy, "Heeey…."

With her eyes still closed, Suki just smiled at him and hid her snort with a faint snore.


	27. Chapter 27

**AN: Posting this update tonight, since I won't be able to in the A.M. I will update tomorrow evening, too, rest assured. Thanks for reading! /mm**

* * *

****

Chapter 27

Zuko dedicated the last day and a half to Katara. No task was too demanding or demeaning, and each one was completed with devotion.

Washing and brushing her hair, styling it simply, brushing her teeth, with Suki's help he even helped give Katara her full morning facial routine. He read to her, found her favourite music, and massaged her arms and legs and back to assist her circulation.

The staff all noticed he never stopped watching Katara for signs of sentience. Several nurses actually had to excuse themselves for a few minutes, every so often during their rounds; they teared up when he spoke to Katara and kept waiting for her to answer. But no one had asked him to leave, and he refused to be relieved, even to take a walk to get some 'fresh' air from the cafeteria. It was nothing new—family and loved ones had done the same things he had. It was the fact that it was slowly coming to light how much he'd recently done to assist Katara that was breaking their hearts; it seemed he would never be able to show her everything he'd done for her, in her absence. He'd literally changed her world for her for the better, and she would never know it.

Then the countdown of the last 24 hours began.


	28. Chapter 28

**Chapter 28**

Zuko sat and spoke with Katara the whole night long.

"You infuriated me."

"You inspired me."

"I couldn't stand how everyone loved you."

"It made me angrier when they took advantage of your kindness, generosity, and position."

"I wish you'd let loose your temper on them more often."

"I would have paid to see you deck Han that day he tried to impress you by grabbing your ass. Sokka said he didn't wake up for two days."

"Suki said you helped her arrange for a midwife for her; would you have wanted one, too? Did you want children? You always said you wanted a big family, but I wasn't sure if you meant you wanted a lot of cousins, or if you wanted… your own…"

"I'm proud of you. You did it all. I wish you could know how amazing you are."

"Your hair is beautiful."

"I've never, ever forgotten how you smiled at me, when we…"

"How do you get your hair dry with only your two hands? It took Suki and me an hour and a half to do it, and we used two hairdryers. By the way, we need to get you a new hair dryer; and I promise we'll get you a nice haircut to sort of… camouflage… that part that got, uh, burnt. Well, not burnt, just… really dried out. And brittle. If Suki can't find that special restorative conditioner. But don't worry, it isn't permanent."

"I never stopped thinking about you."

"You were my first."

"I should have realised sooner you were my only."

"There were others, but no one ever took your place. They were never you."

"I'm sorry I didn't come sooner. I didn't think you'd ever forgive me."

"Sokka said you wanted to visit a tropical beach someday."

"I bought an island for you. Don't get mad, just a small one. With a beach."

"I'll never understand why you loved these romance novels so much? It seems like if the two main characters were to just talk to each other they'd… Oh. Never mind, I think I get it now… I think you're a little masochistic, Katara. Maybe, when you're ready, we can talk."

"Did you ever miss me?"

"Why were you awake that morning? Why didn't you say anything?"

"I want to hear you laugh again."

"If I wasn't me, and you weren't… nevermind…"

"I wish you'd left me out there."

"Your dad and Sokka are working together to make a few changes to things here. It's a work in progress, at the moment, but they're already gaining support. I think it will really help you. They're doing it for you."

"I'm sorry my phone just rang—it was my sister. I told her to go to Hell. I'm sure you'd have been more colourful. I miss you swearing at Azula. You were the only one who could ever get under her skin, or beat her at anything. Have I mentioned I loved you for that—er, I mean…"

"You know what, fuck it. I loved you. I still love you. I never stopped loving you."

"Not even when you… not even then. I don't care that you rejected me. Well, no, I do—but I know you did it because you were scared. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, Katara. I didn't know how to tell you I loved you without telling you I loved you. I never meant to make you feel pressured to make a decision right away. I should have given you more time. I'm so, so sorry."

"I love you, Katara. I'm still here, waiting for you, just like I said I would. If you need me, I'm here."

And then he waited.

There was still no response.

"I love you," he repeated, squeezing her hand carefully.

The digital clock on the far wall silently reminded him he was down to his last 12 hours.


	29. Chapter 29

**AN: We're on to the final countdown-****less than 10 chapters left!**

* * *

**Chapter 29**

Two of Katara's oldest friends, Aang and Toph, had arrived late that afternoon and spent the entire time at her bedside.

It was the only time Zuko left her side; and it was mostly because he was worried he'd try to set fire to the annoying pair if they didn't bugger off soon.

When Aang had tearfully broken down and promised Katara he would never forget her, and Toph had smacked the shaven-headed monk across the back of his head, Zuko had calmed himself enough to rejoin them. And he passed Toph a package of spiced nuts he'd purchased from the vending machine down the hall. She grinned at him in thanks and kept Aang in line (through brute force) for the rest of the afternoon.

It finally came time for the last supper—and the remaining hour before Katara's looming 'termination'.


	30. Chapter 30

**Chapter 30**

Supper sucked.


	31. Chapter 31

**AN: For the shortest chapter ever, it got the most reviews. This means something, I know it does... ;)  
**

* * *

**Chapter 31**

Dr. Koh eyed the gathered crowd that had amassed in Katara's room and down the corridor with displeasure and unease.

"Normally this is a private event with immediate family present, only," he stated. His tone was dry. "Should we move to a surgical gallery? Perhaps you'd enjoy better seats."

The crowd shuffled uncomfortably for a moment before calming down. If the most vocal opponent to Katara's condition, Zuko, was taking the events with quiet, measured grace, they would follow his example.

Many had brought cards and flowers, but upon seeing the room had already been mostly cleared of personal effects, they hung back, deciding they could be presented to Hakoda at… the next stage.

Zuko sat hunched over Katara from his now-standard seat at her bed. Irritated, exhausted, and… emotionally barren.

The young man kept his eyes on Katara's face, and held one of her hands in his, his thumb stroking the back of her hand as he gently swept a lock of her dark hair from her face. On Katara's far side, Hakoda sat with his hand on her other hand, and Sokka stood behind him, an arm around his father in support.

Tall, dark, and clad in ghoulish, old-fashioned medical robes with his surgical mask always in place, Dr. Koh made an intimidating figure. He surveyed them one last time before taking his place beside the myriad machinery which had performed the lion's share of functioning for Katara's body over the past weeks.

"Thank you for coming to support the family of Dr. Kuruk," he said, more gravely. His voice was smooth, low, and carried clearly through to the hallways in the sudden quiet. "In view of her standing here at the hospital, and with the village and Tribe, we have been blessed with the presence of Master Pakku. He will speak words of blessing and guidance, and we will have a moment of silence before I complete my task. Master Pakku."

"Please close your eyes and think of our daughter, sister, beloved Katara as I speak," Master Pakku addressed them all, his leathery, wizened face taking them in sharply.

Zuko ignored the old man, though, as he focused on his last moments with Katara.

His fingers tightened slightly on hers as he closed his eyes, forcing the heat back. He would attend her with dignity. He had resolved this before; he would send her off with respect and humility and peace. He was not a blubbering fool. He was not going to break down.

Something about Master Pakku's words came through in bits and pieces, and Zuko only partially recognised that the man was talking about her childhood. Zuko heard a deep breath inhaled, and glanced up. Across from him, Hakoda had bowed his head, hot tears slowly descending his hollow cheeks. Sokka stood proudly at his father's back, but Zuko noticed his large hands were trembling finely.

Zuko turned back to Katara, holding firmer to his decision, even if it was a slipping grasp.

How was she not fighting back? They'd given her so much time, hadn't they? She was Katara—she was supposed to have woken up by now. Zuko swallowed thickly, and remembered the anger he'd felt when he'd woken up and found her watching him. She'd never told him.

That was right, he thought to himself, slightly delusional. She had never told him.

_Hold on to your Agni-flaming briefs, that bitch has never told me how she felt about me, _he suddenly raged.

And that was when he knew there was no way he was letting her die on him without giving him an answer.

"_You selfish __**bitch**_!" he burst out in a hiss, and jumped to his feet. His expression tightened and hardened, and a few medics nearby shuffled backwards away from him; possibly concerned that he had suddenly learned how to shoot laser-flames from his eyeballs, going by his fiery temper.

The room went dead silent.

"Like fucking Hell you're dying!" He grabbed her by the front of her hospital gown, and pulled her up to his face. "You aren't getting out of this that easily!

Appalled at being interrupted, Master Pakku cleared his throat and glared at the young man behind him.

"Shut up, I'm talking here!" Zuko shot back, possessed. "You're officially fired!"

Everyone else started running for the door or calling for security again. A few made pre-emptive calls to the fire department, just in case; another sent an order to wake the burn unit specialists.

Hakoda and Sokka just stared with their jaws and eyes gaping at Zuko's complete descent into the world of Lack o' Marbles.

"What just happened?" breathed Hakoda, horrified.

Zuko was still screaming at his unresponsive daughter; Sokka was trying to set up some kind of order in the small hospital room again; and Master Pakku was incensed that someone had dared to interrupt his great elegy. Some time later, Zuko stomped his feet and swore at them all in frustration.

"Would you shut up, she isn't dead yet!" bellowed Zuko, turning to bark at Katara's former teacher.

"Technically, the machines were turned off several minutes ago," confessed Dr. Koh.

"What are you talking about, she's still breathing!" argued Zuko. He reached up to touch Katara's cheek and stare at her mouth.

Then he leaned in closer, putting his ear against her lips.

Warm breath, weak but definitely there, pushed against his loosened hair to tickle his ear.

"… she's… she's still breathing…" he repeated, his voice a bit hollow.

He turned away from Katara for a second to look at Dr. Koh and Hakoda.

"What does this mean?"

"It means she is breathing unassisted."

"I know that's what it fucking means! What I'm asking is what it means!"

Unimpressed as ever, Dr. Koh stared at him levelly. Then looked down at Katara pensively. He plugged in a different machine, and ran a few diagnostics on the immobile form in the bed.

"Well?" asked Zuko—and at the same time, there was a beeping noise from the machine Dr. Koh had just plugged in; and the paper readout printed a significant spike in the otherwise monotonous line.

"What. Does. It. Mean?" the prince demanded; unconsciously he'd picked up Katara's hand again, holding it tightly.

At each of his words, spikes were printed, beeps sounded, more and more frequently.

"Chief Hakoda, could you or Sokka please address Dr. Kuruk?" Dr. Koh asked after a moment of reviewing the results.

They did; more beeps, but fainter; the spikes printed, but were somewhat smaller.

"Your Highness?"

Zuko ignored his sarcastic tone, and looked questioningly down at Katara again. Then back up at Dr. Koh, his anger palpable.

"What's happening? She's been tied to these stupid machines for almost 6 weeks, and now you're telling me you forgot to plug in the important one!"

Beep-beep-beep-beep-beep-beep-beep!

More paper spat out.

"Interesting," said Dr. Koh as he read the ticker-tape.

"It seems she is aware of her surroundings. She is breathing unassisted. I'd need to run a few more tests, however this is indicative of a change in her condition."

For a second, there was a hopeful, almost idyllic calm.

And then Zuko lost his royal shit.

Leaping across the room, he grabbed Dr. Koh by his non-existent lapels.

"What the fuck have you been doing for the past 6 weeks? _Bellydancing to make her better!?"_


	32. Chapter 32

**Chapter 32**

When enough security could not be assembled to remove the irate prince from Katara's bedside, Suki called in the big guns and made Ursa come collect her son for a time-out.


	33. Chapter 33

**Chapter 33**

When Zuko was given provisional permission to visit Katara again, he lasted an entire four minutes before he started cussing her out for being a two-bit, cowardly weakling, and who did she think she was kidding? He knew she was just hiding in her coma now, and refusing to come out. Her body was physically healed, and she was just being lazy in her head, and did she realise how many people were waiting for her? Because he sure had a lot to say to her, and if she didn't show up soon, he was going to—

Suki just shook her head in disappointment as she dialed Ursa again…


	34. Chapter 34

**Chapter 34**

While his mother waited outside the room in the hallway, Zuko sat down again gruffly at Katara's bedside and just stared at her. He took her hand as he normally did. There was a soft beep again of recognition. But that was all.

"I can't believe I waited ten years to come back to you," he snorted, and heard his mother sighing in resignation as she was already coming through the door to drag him away again.

"Zuko, we talked about this," she muttered, humiliated by her son's poor manners and immaturity. Geez, was he thirty-two or twelve?

"I'm not done yet!"

Refusing to let herself roll her eyes—it was unbecoming—Ursa placed a hand on her hips and glared at her son tiredly.

"Honey, until she grabs your hand and begs you to stay, I think you're done. Now come on, let's-…"

Beep… beep… beep…

But neither noticed the sound.

Their eyes were riveted to Katara's hand, which had slowly, shakily turned over and taken a loose hold of Zuko's.

He gave a tentative squeeze.

Beep-beep… beep-beep…

And then, slowly but surely, there was a twitching of her fingers; then they shakily wrapped around his before losing their strength.

Beep-beep-beep-beep-beep-

"Mom, did you—"

"I saw it, Zuko," Ursa breathed, and assured him. Then she smiled softly at his incredulous expression. "Looks like she isn't willing to let you go quite yet, either."

His eyes lit up in expectation. "So I should keep insulting her, right!"

Putting a palm to her face and closing her eyes, Ursa sighed to herself. "No, Zuko… And remind me to have a talk with your father when we get home…"

* * *

"This is completely ridiculous! I'm making huge progress in there!"

"Zuko, you need to be patient."

(Ursa had taken up position as Zuko's personal jailor –er, 'recovery guide'—indefinitely since Katara had begun responding to his presence.)

"She needs me!"

"She needs to be bathed. It will only take a few minutes."

"I can bathe her! I can keep talking to her! She'll respond to me, I know she will."

"It's not _her_ response to the bath I'm concerned about right now."


	35. Chapter 35

**Chapter 35**

Ursa sat down on a bench in a secluded alcove and nursed her coffee as the medic attended to the bruises on her son's back.

"Nothing permanent; a few abrasions and some welts, but it should all fade within a week or two," he said, and handed Zuko a small tube of antiseptic ointment. "Make sure you rub that in after showering, to prevent infection."

"Thank you," Ursa bowed her head gracefully at the medic as he left with a smile and a wave.

Then she turned her simmering temper on her son.

"If I ever catch you trying to—"

"I won't," he groaned.

"It'll be worse than a chair across your back next time," she promised, and returned to her e-reader.

"It was just a trim. She had split ends. She takes really good care of her hair—" he tried to explain, but his mother's cutting gaze stopped him dead.

"You are to never, ever, try to cut her hair again."

"Yes, Mom."


	36. Chapter 36

**AN: Down to the last 3 chapters. We finish this story tonight!  
**

* * *

**Chapter 36**

When Iroh arrived, he rushed to give Ursa a hug of support.

"How has he been?"

"He's trying everything he can think of," she sighed. "He means well. But… well, every little bit helps, it just seems to be taking some time."

Iroh nodded wisely. "Is he inside?"

Ursa led him to Katara's room; that afternoon, Zuko had calmed down enough to simply pull his chair close, lay his head down on his crossed arms on her bedside and take a nap.

"I've never seen him so relaxed," admitted Iroh thoughtfully.

"When he wakes up, you'll have never seen him so worked up," Ursa added wryly.

They smirked to each other knowingly.


	37. Chapter 37

**Chapter 37**

"Prince Zuko?"

"Uncle! What are you doing here?"

"I understand you're having lady troubles?"

"No! Well… Not exactly—it's more like… She's stubborn."

"Funny thing that."

"I think she's ignoring me."

"Prince Zuko, she didn't put herself into a coma to avoid you. I think that's a bit… presumptuous. And conceited."

"How do I get her to snap out of it, though, Uncle? I keep trying to find things that will trigger a reaction in her; I'm worried I'm going to run out of things to say soon."

Iroh watched his nephew run a frustrated hand through his dark hair, and let out a deep sigh.

"Let's have your mother join Katara for a bit, I'm sure she'd like some womanly company for a change. We need to go for a walk. Is there a spot nearby to get tea?"


	38. Chapter 38

**Chapter 38**

(An hour later)

"Remember what I told you," counselled Iroh as he clapped Zuko on the back.

The young man thanked his mother for remaining with Katara (which Ursa had enjoyed—she'd had no one to divulge embarrassing tales of naked!baby!Zuko to in years!), and entered Katara's room, pulling the door nearly closed before he pulled the privacy curtain around her bed.

"If you were awake, we'd never run out of things to say to each other," he said. "And I would listen to you and every word you'd ever say."

He slipped off his shoes, and shrugged his jacket onto the back of his usual chair.

"But there are some things I think others can say better than I can… so I'm going to borrow their words, just for a little bit, ok?"

Then, mindful not to make any noise that would betray him, he climbed into her bed beside her. Drawing the blankets up over them both, he settled her against his chest, and leaned down comfortably to whisper in her ear a song he'd heard on the radio, and always remembered. It made him think of her.

_When you try your best, but you don't succeed  
When you get what you want, but not what you need  
When you feel so tired, but you can't sleep  
Stuck in reverse_

_And the tears come streaming down your face  
When you lose something you can't replace  
When you love someone, but it goes to waste  
Could it be worse?_

_Lights will guide you home  
And ignite your bones  
And I will try to fix you_

_And high up above or down below  
When you're too in love to let it go  
But if you never try you'll never know  
Just what you're worth_

_Lights will guide you home  
And ignite your bones  
And I will try to fix you…_

"I'm sorry I can't play you the guitar riffs—but I'll try and find it for you later. I think you'd like it," he murmured softly to her, eyes closed, when he'd finished singing. He'd become so accustomed to speaking to her and not getting a reaction he just cuddled her closer for a moment, then kissed the top of her head.

"Someday, we'll fix you. So you keep healing, ok? I'm still waiting for you, here at home. Always."

Then he remembered another song, from years before, when they'd last been together-a song that recently had become new again.

"Do you... maybe you'll remember this one?" he tried, his voice breaking. He swallowed and tried one last time.

_When the rain_  
_Is blowing in your face_  
_And the whole world_  
_Is on your case_  
_I could offer you_  
_A warm embrace_  
_To make you feel my love_

_When the evening shadows_  
_And the stars appear_  
_And there is no - one there_  
_To dry your tears_  
_I could hold you_  
_For a million years_  
_To make you feel my love_

_I know you_  
_Haven't made_  
_Your mind up yet_  
_But I would never_  
_Do you wrong_  
_I've known it_  
_From the moment_  
_That we met_  
_No doubt in my mind_  
_Where you belong_

_I'd go hungry_  
_I'd go black and blue_  
_I'd go crawling_  
_Down the avenue_  
_You Know there's nothing_  
_That I wouldn't do_  
_To make you feel my love_

_The storms are raging_  
_On the rolling sea_  
_And on the highway of regret_  
_The winds of change_  
_Are blowing wild and free_  
_You ain't seen nothing_  
_Like me yet_

_I could make you happy_  
_Make your dreams come true_  
_Nothing that I wouldn't do_  
_Go to the ends_  
_Of the Earth for you_  
_To make you feel my love, To make you feel my love..._

...

His words faded, caught in his throat. He squeezed his eyes shut tight to clear them.

So he was taken aback when he heard a quiet reply.

"Zuuh…," came a rough, scratchy voice.

Zuko's eyes flew open. "...Katara?"

For the first time that he could remember in the past 2 months, Katara slowly looked up at him with her beautiful blue eyes, and smiled faintly.

"… Zu…ko?..."

Iroh and Ursa broke the laws of physics when they rushed in upon hearing Zuko's wild shouts and laughter.

* * *

"You came back," Zuko breathed, holding Katara close once the hubbub and visits had died down.

"You came back first," she smiled.

"I never left you," he whispered, smoothing her hair from her face.

* * *

**(THE END)**

**AN: Songs are copyright Coldplay ("Fix You") and Bob Dylan/Adele ("Make You Feel My Love"). Longer AN coming up. ; )**


	39. Chapter 39

**Zuko's SnowJob: Chapter 39:**

_Final AN: A few things of note:_

1 – Many thanks to speechwriter and Uchiha.s for the crazy prompts ('Zutara', 'snowmobile') and beta'ing/feedback—it was nice to write something for *fun* again, and have such great gals to do it with. :D I love and admire your writing, and it was an honour to work with such 'professionals'. We'll get that Fanfic Beach Island, someday! ;)

2 –Katara: Character Note: I don't want anyone to think that this is any kind of… reflection… that Katara could not take care of herself. Katara is a VERY capable woman and character, imho. What I *could* easily envision, though, was her being snowed under with responsibility and not taking enough time for herself. It happens to the best & brightest, and I think everyone knows what it is like when you spread yourself too thin… and find there's nothing left for YOU at the end of it. It's not that she couldn't say 'no'—it's that no one else would put their hand up and offer to shoulder some of the work.

3 – Zuko: Character Note: I don't mean to say that Zuko (or any man) can/should dictate a woman's place/role/responsibilities/workload/etc. OH BY GOLLY, NO. I'm trying to show that Zuko (as an individual who has loved Katara for more than a decade and who had forseen the murky waters she'd be navigating) wanted to do something, anything, that he could to help Katara and give her her life back. And by 'her life', I mean, time for her to be happy. I tried to make it clear that he was willing to walk away (once she woke), if she did not want him there—to show that he didn't do it with the expectation of getting something out of it for himself. He didn't do this life-management-for-Katara because he wanted her to be 'in her place' (or in a place that HE thought was best for HER) – he did it to give her time to decide, for herself, what she wanted in her life… what she wanted 'her place' to truly be. He wanted her to be happy and free—something he could never be, in his opinion.

I'm sure you can guess what an epilogue or future story arc (should I ever sit down to write one) would look like between the two of them: bickering over what roles/duties she keeps versus what he takes on, political marriage, division of diplomatic duties, more photo-ops (where Katara sneakily suggests that she's *more than* happy to take over the naked photo-ops with the circles of naked men… tricking Zuko into adamantly REFUSING to let her, and setting himself up for another one… then Katara purring as she tucks another magazine spread with his naked-photo-shoot in it under her bed with the rest of her collection… hee hee), and the usual sexy/confrontational/fore-play banter that makes this pairing so hot/fantastic. And no doubt them forgetting to 'shut the window' again. ;)

4 – Why the short chapters? Faster updates, review whoring (didn't happen, sadface!), and also the fact that I'm a control-freak: I want you to not only 'read' this story—I want you to read it 'like this'. XD I find the way you format/deliver a story impacts how you read it/internalise it. I found shorter chapters help bring out the humour better (in the beginning), and helped break up some of the sentimentality/melodrama in the later chapters. It also (I think?) helped emphasize the tension and pacing. Or that was my intent. I'm sure you'll all let me know how well I succeeded or failed. XD

That's about it. More chapters coming soon for "Merits" (it is my NaNo project, now that my studio is back up & running again, thank the gods!), so I hope you've enjoyed this 'break' in the meantime.

Reviews are love, but most of all, I just hope you enjoyed.

Happy reading, all! :D

**-mm**  
**October 2012**  
**ON, Canada**


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